Just What They Needed
by ComeAlongPond19
Summary: Everything they did had a purpose. One needed to be needed. One needed independence. One needed security. And when they find men who need the same things, the attraction is instant. This is the story of how Nottingham got turned on its head by the hearts and minds of three very unusual women. (I know the main characters only list Allan and Guy, but rest assured, NO SLASH.)
1. Sheriff Got Your Tongue?

**Author's Note: **This is a coauthored story by myownrubicon and tawnypowl (Tumblr User Names) and it is a twist on the Robin Hood canon. So yes, we know a lot of it sounds familiar. Please read and review and tell us what you think of our characters! We'll be going through all the episodes, so if you have one you like and there is something you'd like to see, be sure to let us know!

**Disclaimer: **Robin Hood doesn't belong to us. If it did, Eleanor, Adelina, and Branwyn would be real.

Let the story begin!

Since Robin of Locksley had left England, Sir Guy of Gisborne had enjoyed all of the perks of being the Lord of Locksley. One of those assorted perks was a seat on the Council of Nobles. Not because he thought the Council meetings were particularly thrilling—in fact, he found them dreadfully boring—but because sitting in the midst of all of the noblemen did everything to feed his rather impressive ego. All he really wanted was power—Vaisey had been a step along the path. And now that he was practically a properly official noble, he had all of those things just at his fingertips.

When Locksley had reappeared, it had ruined all of his fun. But when Locksley had quickly become an outlaw, Guy had felt smug glee despite the fact that he no longer sat on the Council. If he couldn't sit on the Council, neither could Locksley, but at least Guy still got to stand in on council meetings. The meeting immediately after Locksley turned outlaw, the Sheriff was in a particularly bad mood and to make matters worse, one of the nobles was running late.

Just as Vaisey was getting ready to start the meeting anyway, a young man and woman appeared in the grand room. She was perhaps nineteen, certainly old enough to be a mother several times over, though it didn't appear that she was married to the young man she was accompanying. He appeared to be her younger brother, actually, a young gentleman of maybe seventeen. They were both dipped deep into their shows of respect for the Sheriff, she in a deep curtsey and her brother in a deep bow. It was the girl who spoke.

"You will have to forgive our tardiness, Your Grace," she said to the Sheriff, her voice calm and almost cold. "My father, the Earl of Perlethorpe, passes along his apologies. He could not make the Council today, as he has fallen unexpectedly ill. My brother Barric will be representing him today with the assistance of myself."

"And who are _you_?" The Sheriff sneered at the young woman, who was still bowed into a deep curtsey.

"Branwyn, eldest child and only daughter of the Earl of Perlethorpe." She straightened out of the curtsey then, and as her dark, nearly black eyes rose up from the ground they landed right on Gisborne's ice blue eyes. She cleared her throat and quickly looked away, but Guy couldn't quite find it in himself to do the same. She guided Barric, who didn't seem to feel as though he particularly needed or wanted his sister with him, to the seat normally reserved for their father. The meeting began with Branwyn making a conscious effort not to stare at Guy, but Guy making no effort at all to avoid staring at her.

Finally, the meeting turned in the direction of taxes. Vaisey was pushing a new tax on agriculture, one that many of the nobles seemed unsure of. The Sheriff, feeling like he wanted an easy target, turned his steely gaze on Branwyn and Barric. "And what do the young Master of Perlethorpe and his keeper think of the tax?"

Barric snorted. "Listen to this, Wynnie, he thinks we're common dolts."

Branwyn smirked. "My Lord Sheriff, you'll find that my brother and I are not quite what you were expecting. We agree that taxes are necessary, to support King Richard in the Holy Land, of course, and to help Good Prince John reserve the peace in the homeland. However, I think that dragging your brutes through the town," her eyes flashed to Gisborne as a deep blush bloomed on her cheeks, "may not be the way to go about it."

The Sheriff laughed at her. "Do you hear that? The girl thinks we can just ask the people to give us money and they will!" He continued laughing, but the only response he received was a smirk from Gisborne (and still only when Vaisey was looking.)

"I never said that," Branwyn said coolly. "Tell me, Sheriff, do you fear God?"

There was a pause in the room as the Sheriff fell completely silent. Finally, when he realized everyone was waiting for an answer, he nodded. "Well, yes, of course, but I don't see—"

"And you respect Him?" Branwyn cut in, not allowing him to finish.

"Of course," Vaisey said with a half-chuckle, "Where are you—"

"And do you love God?" She asked, holding the attention of every man in the room. When the Sheriff didn't answer her, she continued on. "Love is not usually a word we associate with God, is it? But when I look at the men who lead us in Mass every day, I see men who truly fear and respect God. They follow His commandments, live perfect sinless lives, keep his sacraments, and fear and respect drive much of those actions. However, there is also a deep, real, pure love for God living in their hearts. So, no, Sheriff, I am not saying you should simply _ask nicely_. I am saying that you already have their fear and respect, but if you were to couple that with love you would be the wealthiest, most powerful man in England."

There was a heavy pause as the words sunk in to the men scattered throughout the room. Branwyn looked just a little pale, as though she had just realized the danger in her words making the Sheriff seem like a fool. Barric looked wholly smug as he leaned back in his chair and waited for the Sheriff to respond. The other nobles all watched Branwyn in awe, with the exception of Marian who watched with great respect. Guy felt a strange sense of pride towards the young woman. But then there was the Sheriff.

Vaisey was not a man used to being told no. He was not a man used to being trumped in his own Council, especially not from women who think they're being incredibly clever. But, before he could have a chance to make any thickly veiled threats towards the young Lady Perlethorpe, the Earl of Boughton spoke instead.

"The girl does have a point," he noted nonchalantly, shrugging a bit. "But you would be right in your observation, my lord, that she is a naïve young girl and has never had to deal with such great decisions before."

Vaisey straightened in his chair a bit, fluffing himself along with his ego. "Yes, I would be wouldn't I?" His eyes grazed over Branwyn and Barric and he smirked. "It's little wonder you're not married, _Maid _Branwyn. Your father must be horribly embarrassed." Branwyn blushed and he laughed, calling the Council to a close and leaving up the stairway to the second floor, along with Gisborne who lingered just one more moment to stare at Branwyn.

The nobles all began to file out, Barric standing and laying a hand on his stunned sister's shoulder. Branwyn was frozen for a moment before the Earl of Boughton, who had been watching her sympathetically, approached her. The earl's daughter, Adelina, was a good friend of Branwyn's, and so the earl felt a special attachment to the now thoroughly embarrassed young woman.

"It could have been much worse."

She turned, startled as he spoke, terribly surprised to find him still standing in the doorway. She dipped into a curtsey. "My lord," she said, genially, trying to shake the grim feeling the Sheriff's presence had given her.

"That was a foolish thing you did, Branwyn. You are lucky a minor embarrassment in front of the Council was your punishment. It could have been worse," he repeated, gesturing for her to join him. They walked a few paces in silence, finally reaching the front of the castle. Barric was mounting his horse, another beautiful chestnut colored horse next to it. The Earl of Boughton laughed. "Your best dress, and you didn't take a carriage?"

Branwyn looked up at him with a smile. "Of course not. It's far too nice a day to lock myself inside a great rolling box."

The earl laughed. "You have never changed, Branwyn. My daughter gives her greetings."

"Tell Adelina I say hello. I have plans to visit her at Boughton when my father recovers his health."

"Of course. And tell your father we send our best wishes and prayers for his health. May God have mercy on him and your family."

"Thank you, my lord. God willing he shall see you next week."

The earl smiled as he headed towards the stable where his carriage was waiting. "I look forward to it."

Branwyn began towards her horse, but was stopped by a great lurking shadow. Tracing it upwards with her thickly lashed dark eyes she was surprised to find Guy of Gisborne standing in front of her. She bobbed in a small curtsey—he was a man, but not her equal—and kept her face decidedly calm, cursing the small blush that uncontrollably stained her cheeks. "Sir Guy, what a surprise."

"Lady Branwyn," he said dipping into a polite bow, "I do not believe we have been previously introduced."

Branwyn smiled sheepishly. "My father only reluctantly agreed to let me come. He does not think that a Council of Nobles is a proper place for an unmarried woman."

"Your father is wise." He hesitated for a brief moment, searching for the right words. "I am sorry for the Sheriff's mockery. I am sure that there is a reason behind your…state."

Branwyn blinked in confusion. "My state?"

"You are…unmarried."

"Ah. Yes. Well," Branwyn smiled gently. "My father has found no man willing to tolerate such a spirited young woman as myself."

"I think spirit and bravery are qualities which deserve to be exalted." She looked away from him with a blush and he cleared his throat. "I have recently come into permanent residence at Locksley Manor. I would very much like it if you were to visit me there, at some point, now that it is my own."

She smiled at his almost sheepish invitation, holding a laugh in her throat at the ludicrousness of the situation she stood in. "I would very much like that as well. Tomorrow morning, then?"

He smiled. "I look forward to it," he said, holding out his hand.

She gave her hand to him slowly, and as he kissed it she blushed furiously and grinned like a madwoman. "As do I."

The next morning, however, Guy had forgotten about the invitation temporarily. The Sheriff had woken him early, wanting Robin found and found quickly. The rude awakening had put Guy in a less than tolerant mood and the ride to Locksley with the temperamental Sheriff had spoiled his mood even further. When the peasants all refused to talk, though Guy and the Sheriff both knew full well that they knew where Robin and his friends had gotten off to, Guy had snapped. Now, he and the Sheriff stood in the full sunlight waiting for hours to pass. Guy's collection of peasant tongues was growing, but his knowledge of Locksley's whereabouts and his patience were both thin and rapidly thinning. Wanting a brief reprise from the sun, he stalked off to the manor—_his_ manor—with the intention of getting wine for himself and the Sheriff. He found there a young woman riding a chestnut horse, preparing to dismount. She was wearing an emerald green dress, which brought out the red and gold that the sunlight lit in her dark hair, which was braided and piled neatly on the back of her head. But even from the back of her head, Guy recognized her.

"Lady Branwyn," he said, rushing to help her dismount.

"Sir Guy," she greeted with a smile. "I hope you had not forgotten my visit."

Guy smiled, praying he didn't look caught off his guard. "Of course not. I would need to be a fool to forget the visit of such a beautiful young woman."

Branwyn laughed as he helped her to the ground. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Sir Guy. Use it wisely."

He held out his arm with a smile. "I intend to."

He led her into the manor, ordering two goblets of wine brought for himself and Branwyn and pulling out a chair for her to sit. She gave him a knowing smile and instead of sitting, wandered around the first floor of Locksley Manor, gazing admirably upon the craftsmanship of Locksley. "You have good carpenters in this village," she remarked, nodding in approval of the building. "This is a sturdy manor, well built, thought through. My compliments."

"Thank you," Guy said, watching her in amusement. "I am…quite proud of it."

Branwyn took a sip of her wine, a smirk playing on her lips. She turned to look out one of the windows and found, to her surprise, a pair of yellow-and-black clad guards was manhandling a peasant man out of his tongue. "What great secrets are the peasants keeping?"

Guy joined her in front of the window, not entirely sure if it was proper decorum to watch guards cut a peasant's tongue out while casually observing with a lady. He watched her carefully as the guards finished their gruesome chore, but he didn't see her so much as pale or wince as they released the pathetic, bloody man. "Information about the whereabouts of Robin of Locksley." She hummed and nodded, slowly taking a drink of her wine. He watched her carefully, not sure whether she was in shock or somehow was totally unaffected by the sight in front of her. His experience with women was limited, but he was relatively sure that she was supposed to be bothered.

After a brief pause and a few more moments watching the Sheriff and the guards taunt and question the peasants in the square, Branwyn smiled at Guy apologetically. "I seem to have come at an inconvenient time."

"No!" Guy said quickly, pausing when he realized how accidentally urgent the word had sounded. "No, not at all. Please, Lady Branwyn, there is so much I want to know about you."

She smiled back at him. "I have a letter from my father to carry to Knighton Hall. I will wait there for you. When you find Robin later today—and I have full confidence in your ability to get them talking, Sir Guy—you can come find me there. I have several days to spend in Nottingham Town, should I want them." She smiled as she handed her wine goblet to Guy, her eyes never leaving his. "And I do want them."

She left then, pulling on her riding gloves and pulling herself up sidesaddle onto her horse. As she rode off, she flashed him a smile over her shoulder. Guy got an almost warm feeling as he poured another glass for the Sheriff and went back out to face the peasants. It was another hour until Robin showed up, and it was with a sense of pride he had never felt quite before that Guy pulled his prisoner towards Knighton. There, he found Sir Edward looking rather distraught to see Robin being towed by Sir Guy. Branwyn, however, was another story.

"Oh, Sir Guy, you brought me a present!" She walked over to where Robin stood and exchanged grins with Guy, who hadn't stopped smiling since he had pulled up to see her again. She held out a hand and grabbed Robin's chin, turning his head one way and the other. "I'm a little disappointed in you, Robin of Locksley. I remember how noble you used to be; a just, fair lord to live under. And here you are, a homeless nothing who is good for nothing more than serving as an elaborate decoration for some gibbet outside of Nottingham. It's a bit of a pity, really." She looked back up at Guy, giving him a smile that matched the grimness of his own. "But your replacement is capable of running things better than you ever could. More than an even trade, I'd say." She rounded the horse, climbing up onto her horse and draping her legs gracefully to one side. Gripping the reins tightly in her gloved hands she nodded her head at Sir Edward respectfully. "I shall return for the reply to my father's letter in several days time. Until then, Sir Edward."

"I shall have one ready, Lady Branwyn. Until then."

Branwyn rode off next to Guy. They spent the entire ride from Knighton to Nottingham deep in conversation, and as Robin was pulled behind he twisted his face in disgust. Still, if Guy's new found affections for Branwyn of Perlethorpe took them off of Marian, Robin could accept it. He hadn't expected Branwyn to be so cruel hearted—she was only a year or two younger than Marian and growing up Branwyn had spent many hours in the company of Marian and Robin. Robin remembered her as an even tempered, if somewhat detached, young woman. She had always been a bit ambitious, chattering on about how her father was striving to find a suitable match for her. Her father was a bit of a stern man, the kind who ran his lands to the highest caliber and didn't entirely care who he ran over in the process. Her mother had died after the birth of her youngest brother, Richard, leaving Earl Perlethorpe with three children to raise aged six or under. Branwyn had become the lady of the household, and Robin supposed in all honesty he shouldn't be surprised that Branwyn had a bit of a stone heart. With the things she must have seen as she watched her father carry out his strict justice she would have learned to be accepting of things Robin himself would never settle for.

By the time they reached Nottingham Castle, Guy and Branwyn were deep in their own personal betrothal negotiations. It seemed to Robin that they were made for each other. Branwyn, with her ambition and lack of fear to take any steps necessary to get herself to the top; and Guy, with his lust for power that marrying a noblewoman would provide and his enjoyment of all things grim. And as Robin was dragged off to the dungeons, he wondered what two cold-hearted people could possibly do on a courtship outing. Pick flowers and have a picnic as normal courting couples did? Or watch a hanging and collect taxes? Whatever they did, it was probably highly unusual.

In fact, Guy and Branwyn spent to rest of the day together in Locksley. After dropping Robin off in the dungeons of Nottingham, Guy took Branwyn back to his home and they spent the afternoon in conversation. When night fell, Guy rode back to Nottingham but let Branwyn have use of Locksley Manor. When he told her that, she laughed and told him that she wasn't Lady of the Manor yet and would feel improper staying alone in a house belonging to a man she had only just met. Which is when Guy had smiled and brushed a curl back from Branwyn's face, so close to her he could feel her breath on his neck, and without any hesitation announced his plans to make Branwyn the Lady of the Manor. The next morning, after spending a night in an inn near Locksley, Branwyn rode back to Perlethorpe with a letter from Sir Guy to her father asking his permission to make Branwyn the new Lady Gisborne along with a letter from Sir Edward of Knighton detailing the latter's loyalty to King Richard and refusal to join any scheme denouncing his throne. One of the letters would please her father greatly. The other would not.

The next few days passed in a whirlwind. Her father, from his deathbed, had written a letter to Sir Guy giving his wholehearted permission for Branwyn's marriage. Just after he signed it, Lord Arthur Perlethorpe passed away. The next day he was buried, news was spread throughout Nottingham that Branwyn was to marry Guy, the newly-dubbed Robin Hood escaped capture (again), and Barric became the Earl of Perlethorpe. Two days after her father's death, Branwyn rode to Nottingham Town from Perlethorpe for a more long-term arrangement. Accompanying her were her two dearest friends from childhood, two daughters of neighboring Lords. Eleanor, the daughter of the Earl of Ollerton, and Adelina, the daughter of the Earl of Boughton, were to serve Branwyn in the days leading up to her wedding.

On their ride from Perlethorpe Manor to Nottingham, the main road they rode took them through Sherwood Forest. Branwyn couldn't hide a grim smile when a cluster of men appeared in front of her horse. "This is an ambush!"

"Robin of Locksley," she cooed happily, halting her horse with a bounce. Her long burnt orange dress settled along with her curls, which she was wearing to one side held in place with a beautifully bejeweled hair stick. "I didn't know you still had any friends."

"I have a few," he quipped, walking up to her horse and taking hold of the reins. "Look at you, Branwyn. About to be Lady Gisborne and riding in the company of two noblewomen."

"You remember Adelina of Boughton and Eleanor of Ollerton don't you, Robin?"

Adelina, the youngest of the three women and the fairest in complexion with blue eyes, fair red hair, and a smattering of freckles covering her entire body, smiled at Robin. "It's been too long, Robin."

Eleanor, the quietest of the three, smiled as well. "Look at you now, Lord Locksley. I never thought we'd be in this position all those years ago."

"Yes, look at you now," Branwyn added sarcastically. "Out of land, out of love, and out of a title if I'm not mistaken. What is it they're calling you now?" Her face spread into a dark smile. "Oh yes. Robin _Hood_. I can tell you this much: if I have anything to do with it, when my husband gets his hands on you, a hood will be a privilege you won't have earned. Now then, you seem to have come to ambush us and, presumably, rob us. Unfortunately for you, we don't have anything worth robbing."

Robin laughed. "Come now, Branwyn. No self-respecting nobleman, even one as young as your brother, would send a sister off without a dowry."

"But my brother knew I'd be passing your way, so my dowry will be collected by my husband when we travel to Perlethorpe for the holiday. So it would seem you have been thwarted, Robin. I have nothing."

Eleanor looked over at Branwyn with a quieting glance which Robin noticed and smiled at Branwyn, who glared back at him but said nothing. "So you say you have no money," Robin said with a smile. "Then you won't mind us searching your things."

"Be my guest," Branwyn sneered, rolling her eyes as Robin's band of men circled her horse and the horses of Adelina and Eleanor. After a few moments of their circling, Branwyn huffed a sigh. "I told you we have nothing of value. If you'll excuse us, I have an appointment in Nottingham."

"Of course, we don't mean to delay you. I'll just take this," Robin reached up and removed the hair stick from Branwyn's long, nearly black curls and took a step back, grinning like a madman. "And you'll be off."

"No," Branwyn said. "Give me that back."

Robin shook his head, taking a sharp breath in with mock sympathy. "See, I can't do that Branwyn. But think of it this way: your donation will be helping the poor of Nottingham." He let go of the reins and bowed, along with the rest of his men, as Branwyn and her company set off for Nottingham. He failed to notice the hard set of Branwyn's jaw or the sharpness in her eyes.

When the women were clear of the outlaws, Branwyn stopped her horse and dismounted by the river. Eleanor and Adelina stopped too, more than a little curious as to what Branwyn could possibly be doing. They watched as Branwyn shook her curls out, mixing in a few leaves and a bit of mud. She streaked mud on her face, hands, dress, and used a knife she kept hidden in her saddle to make tears in the hem of her dress. She then rubbed her eyes until tears mixed with the mud on her face. Finally, she remounted her horse and looked back at Eleanor and Adelina. "Go on then," she prompted.

Adelina slowly got off her horse, looking between Eleanor and Branwyn who were locked in a tight gaze, which Adelina recognized as a form of warfare. While they remained locked in silent, bloodless combat Adelina mimicked Branwyn's actions to a lesser extent: she didn't have the luxury of new dresses waiting for her in just a few days. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of tension, Eleanor climbed off of her horse, put two streaks of mud on her cheeks in the most defiant manner Adelina thought possible, and remounted. The three rode to Nottingham in silence, with Adelina trailing in the back watching her two oldest and dearest friends ride ahead of her. As they rode, she thought of the rather unusual nature of Eleanor and Branwyn's relationship. They were distant cousins—their mothers shared an aunt or some equally strange relation to that—and so they had literally grown up together. They bristled against each other almost constantly, but Adelina could imagine no Eleanor without Branwyn, and no Branwyn without Eleanor.

When they reached Nottingham Castle, there was a crowd out to greet the future Lady Gisborne. Adelina noted with a smirk that most of them seemed to be twittering on in curiosity about what kind of woman would marry Sir Guy of Gisborne willingly. Adelina also noted that most of the townspeople fell silent when the muddy, tattered procession passed them. The gates to the inner castle were open, and waiting on the steps was Guy. He had been silent before, but when he caught sight of Branwyn his entire demeanor changed.

Eleanor and Adelina knew who Guy was, simply because they lived in Nottinghamshire. However, they had never actually met the man who would be marrying their dearest friend. They had both heard that he could be a dangerous man, but they could see it in his face when he helped Branwyn dismount and slowly checked her over for injury. Both girls were impressed with Branwyn's performance as she sobbed on about the evils of Robin Hood, who had stolen the hair stick that was, apparently, the last thing Branwyn owned of her mother's.

Guy led her inside, instructing two guards to tend to Eleanor and Adelina. Adelina watched in awe as Branwyn nestled herself under Guy's arm and leaned her head on his shoulder. Passing her horse off to one of the guards, she began following Eleanor and a servant girl into the castle, in a different direction than Branwyn and Guy.

"Was that really her mother's?" Adelina asked, catching up to Eleanor who had been following the servant girl with long, purposeful strides.

"Yes," Eleanor said evenly, using her hand to wipe the mud off her face. "It really was."

Adelina remained silent for the rest of the walk to the rooms they had, adjacent to each other in a dimly lit stone hallway.


	2. Who Shot the Sheriff?

**Author's Note: **Hello, once again! Tawny and I were super excited by the response we got with only the first chapter—especially since it's, in our opinions, not as good as the later ones. We'll be doing our best to update on a weekly basis. So every Tuesday, look for the next chapter! Please review and tell us how we're doing. Enjoy!

Before Adelina knew it, a week had passed and she was sitting in Nottingham Castle's Great Hall at the celebration after Guy and Branwyn's wedding. Branwyn was officially Lady Gisborne, and she suited the new title well. Adelina's duties were over, as were Eleanor's, and Branwyn never left her new husband's side, so when Adelina and Eleanor both slipped off it wasn't well noticed by any of the attendees.

Adelina just slipped off to a far corner of the hall, where a man sat, drinking deeply from a wooden tankard. Adelina sat next to him, delicately cradling a pewter goblet of red wine. She took a sip to try and hide the smirk on her face, delighted as she went theretofore unnoticed by the man. "I know you," she said, carefully controlling her face as he jumped in surprise. "You're one of Robin Hood's lot."

"No, I'm not," he said smoothly, looking her square in the eye. "What would make you say a thing like that?"

"It's okay," she said with a smile. "I'm not going to tell anyone here. You might want to tell him to calm down the killing spree though—it's taking away some of the romantic hero flair he has going on."

"Those killings aren't him," the man said, his face flashing defense before he realized his mistake and took a drink from the tankard. "Don't tell anyone."

"I won't," she said happily. "On three conditions."

"Oh?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, admiring her for the second time. He had found her captivating when she had rode by with the new Lady Gisborne. He thought he could remember her being introduced as Adelina. "What are those conditions?"

"Firstly, you took something of my friend's and I want it back for her. It's a hair stick, and it's the last thing she has to remind her of her dead mother."

"Fair enough."

"Secondly, I would be most curious in knowing what one of Robin Hood's gang is doing at a local wedding."

"Robin gave us the night off, and I heard there was a wedding. A wedding's just a good a place as any to get a good drink and meet some fine company." The outlaw smiled coyly in the young woman's direction. "So what's the last condition?"

Adelina grinned. "I want a dance."

The man grinned back. "I can definitely do that," he said, standing as the musicians struck up a merry tune. "My name's Allan A Dale, by the way."

"Adelina of Boughton, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Allan A Dale."

He spun her out to the floor, matching grins on their faces. "Not bein' funny, but the pleasure's all mine."

Eleanor, meanwhile, had gone off to Sherwood. Night had already fallen, and though she knew she was putting herself in danger of being associated with an outlaw and there was a killer on the loose, she was not afraid. Branwyn and her new husband would be too busy to antagonize Robin Hood that night, anyway, so she was in no danger of that threat. And she was more than capable of staving off a killer if she needed to—Branwyn wasn't the only one trained in several methods of defense.

She rode out of Nottingham and into Sherwood Forest. It was a beautiful night in the midst of the woods, with clear silver moonlight streaming through the leaves and the low musical tones of nature singing in the light summer breeze. Eleanor was half hoping that Robin wouldn't stop her pleasant ride, but a few miles into the forest she found Robin standing in the path, leaning on his bow with a hood over his head.

"I would've thought you'd be at Branwyn's wedding."

"I was," Eleanor said. "But Branwyn's busy and I've been looking for a chance to come talk to you."

"You know, it's because of your dear friend and her new husband that my good name is being marred with the blame of these killings. So why should I trust you?"

Eleanor smiled. "Because if there is one thing you remember about our childhood it is that I am most decidedly not Branwyn."

Robin turned to face her and she could see the smile on his face. "That is true."

"Besides, Branwyn has been consoling her new husband all week that the only reason he can't seem to catch you is that you just have so many men." She made a show of looking around. "But I don't seem to see any."

"I gave them the night off," Robin said, moving to help her dismount.

Eleanor smiled down at him, accepted his hand, and slid gracefully off the saddle. "That is very kind of you."

"Were you expecting less?"

Eleanor laughed, and it struck Robin how musical it sounded to him. "You _are_ an outlaw, Lord Locksley."

Robin smiled. "You called me that when you rode with Branwyn, as well. You are correct, I _am_ an outlaw, Lady Eleanor, I have lost my claim to a title."

Eleanor smiled a smile that lacked any apology. "I suppose old habits die hard. I don't agree with the rumors surrounding you, my lord. Though," she paused, "I do remember you as a child," she added thoughtfully.

Robin laughed. "I would think that would make you embrace the rumors even more."

"I already told you," Eleanor said with a laugh, "I'm not Branwyn."

They laughed for a few moments before their merriment gave way to silence. After a few thoughtful moments, Eleanor's horse whinnied and pulled Eleanor away from her musings and the realization that she had just been _considering_ Robin of Locksley. Robin looked as surprised as she felt in that split second, and Eleanor wondered what he had been thinking.

"I assume you didn't come all the way to Sherwood, leaving a wedding no less, to discuss our childhood."

Eleanor nodded. "I actually came to apologize for Branwyn. She has this rather nasty habit of assuming her position and lording it over other people."

"She has a few other nasty habits," Robin said bitterly. "I don't understand why you spend any time around her."

Eleanor smiled and gave a small shrug. "Underneath that slightly rocky exterior…" she paused when Robin scoffed. "Branwyn's life has not been easy, Lord Locksley."

"It's been a lot easier than many people's lives have been—or are still to this day! And now that she's Lady Gisborne, she's in a position to make a lot of people much more miserable! How can you not see that?!"

"I do see that," Eleanor said, her voice calm in the face of Robin's small outburst. "But I know Branwyn. She knows what is and is not necessary."

Robin scoffed again. "You trust her and Gisborne more than you ought to."

Eleanor had a twinkle in her eye, but she remained straight faced and gave another small shrug. "We shall see about that, Lord Locksley. She may surprise you."

Robin laughed. "I honestly hope she does surprise me. I like surprises."

"As do I," Eleanor said with a smile. "But Branwyn does not. I should get back before she notices my absence."

"Surely she won't notice tonight."

"No," Eleanor agreed with a twinkle in her eye. "She won't notice one night. But I find you fascinating enough that I am afraid that I might spend too long here, just talking to you."

"You find me fascinating," Robin said happily, leaning forward on his feet eagerly. "Why?"

"A nobleman who leaves his position and money behind to help the poor and desolate, risking everything in the process? That is a most unusual man, Lord Locksley."

Robin shook his head. "Which is one of the great tragedies of our day, Lady Eleanor; that men should sit by and do nothing while his fellow man starves and is miserably tortured…I had no choice but to fight for my King and country, even if it meant a life as an outlaw."

"I should be fascinated to hear the story from your own mouth, my lord. Perhaps at a time when you have more time to talk."

"I have time now," Robin said quickly. Pausing to take hold of himself, he gave her an apologetic smile. "Branwyn won't notice if you spend a night talking to me."

Eleanor just smiled.

Branwyn and Guy had left, the guests were mostly gone, and the only people still dancing were drunk, with the sole exceptions of Allan and Adelina. They had spent all night twirling to the music and laughing, while occasionally stopping to eat and enjoy conversation with each other. But they were beginning to realize that morning was coming, and they would have to go back to their normal lives.

As the silvery stars began to turn gold in the morning haze, Adelina followed Allan to the gates of Nottingham Town. "I wish you didn't have to go," she said honestly, smiling at him through her eyelashes. "I have so enjoyed this evening."

Allan smiled. "Me too, but I don't think your friend would take kindly to me bein' around the castle."

"Oh, Branwyn's really no scarier than a puppy. You just have to know the right spot to pet and she's all yours."

Allan laughed. "I don't think Guy is the same, and he's really what I'm scared of. I don't actually know your friend."

"You should meet her sometime!"

Allan let out a doubtful chuckle. "I don't think that'd be a good idea…"

"Why not? She'd love you!"

Allan shook his head, a doubtful smile plastered on his face. "Not bein' funny, but I think she'd love me hangin' from a rope. At least her husband would."

Adelina frowned, the full reality of his lot in life pressing down on her suddenly. "I'm…sorry."

"Don't be," Allan said with a shrug. "I got my life, you got yours."

Adelina didn't say anything, her heart breaking into pieces as she watched him give a small wave, hesitating as though he almost wanted to say—or do—something more, and then slip away into the night. She turned and slowly walked back to her room in the castle, dropping onto her bed and sobbing the night away.

The next morning, Adelina and Eleanor had planned with Branwyn to meet for breakfast in one of the many dining rooms in the castle. They both showed up looking like they hadn't slept a wink at all that night, which they hadn't, but when Branwyn showed up nearly half an hour after them, she was dancing on air.

"Good morning," she chirped happily, sitting at the head of the table and helping herself to a piece of white bread and a slice of cold lamb. "How are you two this beautiful morning?"

"Marriage suits you well," Eleanor said dryly, watching as Branwyn managed to look insanely happy even as she ate. "I don't think I've ever seen you this happy."

"Oh, it's wonderful," Branwyn sighed, pouring wine for herself and Adelina. "You two should try it sometime."

"I'll do my best," Adelina said flatly, accepting the goblet from Branwyn.

Branwyn looked between Eleanor and Adelina and gave a petulant frown. "What's wrong with you two? You should be happy! I just got married!"

"I know, Branwyn, and we're very happy for you," Eleanor said placatingly. "I just had a late night at the party, is all."

"I had a late night too," Branwyn said, a coy smile on her face. "The…party was wonderful."

Adelina couldn't contain the wine she had in her mouth, sending it spewing all over the table. "No wonder she's so happy," Adelina said with a smile. "I'm not bein' funny, but I'd be happy too if _I_ got to-"

"You invited most everyone in Nottingham," Eleanor said, glaring at Adelina for her rather garish comments.

Branwyn, meanwhile, was ignoring Adelina all together. "Well, I think most of them showed up anyway. But no matter, because everyone saw that I am most undeniably the wife of Sir Guy of Gisborne."

Adelina snorted again, but Eleanor hummed as she picked at her bread. Her conversation with Robin had been long and good, but it had changed her view of Branwyn's marriage. What had begun as a happy occasion for her friend had become a dangerous event for the people of Nottingham.

The rest of breakfast passed as a surprisingly normal occasion for the three friends. Branwyn began ribbing Adelina over her "congenital singleness" and Eleanor joined in before Adelina and Branwyn both began in on Eleanor. It was about an hour until Sir Guy of Gisborne joined them. When he opened the door, Branwyn was on her feet in an instant, out of respect for her husband and as much in greeting of him. He greeted Eleanor and Adelina with polite nods, which they returned kindly.

"Have you caught the murderer yet?" Branwyn asked her husband, pouring him ale.

"We ride out this morning. By the end of this day, we should have him."

Branwyn nodded. "I do not like this plan," she said coolly.

Guy nodded his agreement. "We must do what it takes to keep the Sheriff safe," he said flatly. "You understand."

"Of course I understand, but I do not trust…that man." Guy smiled, brushing a finger along the side of Branwyn's face with a chuckle. She gave a hopeless smile, but took his hand in hers and met his eyes earnestly. "I want to come with you."

Guy hesitated. "I do not think—"

He was cut off by the voice of the Sheriff, who had joined them and now sat across from Eleanor, who was glaring daggers at him from behind her goblet. "Come along, Gisborne, what better display of our fearlessness than bringing along the brand new Lady Gisborne."

"My lord, I—"

"Nonsense, Gisborne, she should come."

Guy looked over at Branwyn with a defeated glare, but she met him with an innocent smile that Adelina and Eleanor both knew well. "I am sorry, Sir Guy," Adelina said with a smirk. "But I do believe that Branwyn just won that battle."

Branwyn and her husband returned several hours later. Eleanor and Adelina watched from a tower as they talked with the Sheriff. Branwyn got a dark, prideful smile on her face as the Sheriff spoke, looking over at her husband who also had a successful smile on his face. All three disappeared in different directions and Eleanor and Adelina didn't see them until that evening at dinner, where every noble in the area had been called together for a private celebration of Guy's marriage to the young Lady from Perlethorpe.

Eleanor and Adelina were sitting with their families, who had come to Nottingham for the wedding celebrations. Branwyn and Guy, as well as Branwyn's younger brothers Barric and Richard, sat at the head table with the Sheriff. About halfway through dinner, the Sheriff stood, silencing the entire room.

"I have an announcement to make. This afternoon, my loyal friend Sir Guy of Gisborne was made the new Master at Arms for Nottingham. I would now like to propose a toast to the new beginnings of Sir Guy of Gisborne. To his marriage and his career, may both be long and prosperous!" He lifted his glass and was met with a chorus of 'hear, hear!'

The rest of the meal, Eleanor watched Branwyn. Branwyn was fussing over her younger brother Richard who was training with Adelina's older brother to be a knight, which meant that he spent most of his time away from Perlethorpe. Branwyn had been very much a mother to young Richard, and it had been one of the many things that Eleanor always lauded about Branwyn. But when Eleanor's younger brother Henry had leaned over and commented on how Guy would be a strong father figure for young Richard, Eleanor's blood had run cold.

That night after the meal, Branwyn and her husband retired early to Locksley, though Barric and Richard remained behind. They were playing an altogether rather unlordly game in the courtyard when Eleanor joined them, stopping their game altogether.

"I'm sorry," Barric was saying, hiding the sheepskin ball behind his back. "My brother was being fidgety and I was trying to stop him from being unruly."

Eleanor smiled knowingly. "You don't have to apologize to me, Barric. Or should I say Lord Perlethorpe?"

"You should," Barric said, puffing out his chest. He had always been as proud, if not moreso, than his sister.

"Well, Lord Perlethorpe, I had a question for you."

"Of course, Lady Eleanor, anything for a kinswoman."

Eleanor held back a laugh. "I wanted to know what you thought of Branwyn's marriage to Sir Guy."

"I approve wholeheartedly. It's about time she became somebody else's problem, and Guy seems quite capable of handling my sister."

"And you, Richard," she asked, turning to look at young Richard, who still looked like a boy of seven though he was thirteen. "What do you think of Sir Guy?"

"He seems an honest man, and Wynnie seems happy. That's really all that matters, isn't it, Cousin Eleanor?"

Eleanor gave a forced smile. "Indeed. I really should go pack my things; we leave for home in the morning."

"Of course," Barric said with a bow, glaring at Richard until the boy bowed as well. "Until we meet again."

Eleanor walked away, ice running through her veins as she caught a glimpse of the former Master-of-Arms being placed on a funeral pyre outside of the castle limits. She could only hope Branwyn knew what she was getting herself into.

8


	3. Parenthood

**Author's Note: **Here we are once again! Thanks so much to those who have followed/favourited. Feel free to review! Enjoy!

Branwyn woke in the middle of the night to find her husband mysteriously absent from their bed. In the castle, they each had separate rooms, but Locksley Manor was not large enough to grant such formalities and so the Lady and her husband had to share a bed. Not that it was a chore to share a bed with each other. In fact, Branwyn thought she might enjoy life in her little country home of Locksley Manor quite a bit more than she would enjoy life in the castle.

She slipped out of bed and donned a dressing gown over her nightshift. She opened the door and peered over the balcony to find Guy downstairs in the kitchen, talking in harsh whispers with one of the kitchen girls from Nottingham Castle. The girl was holding a baby and had tears streaming down her face.

"It's yours," she was saying, holding the child out to Guy. "What are you going to do?"

Guy was about to answer, but stopped as he heard Branwyn begin her descent down the stairs. He looked surprised as Branwyn came over to them, looking at the baby in awe. There was no denying the child was Guy's. Branwyn looked from the child to the kitchen girl. "May I hold him?" The girl handed Branwyn her baby, curtseying as he changed arms. Branwyn smiled, but Guy noticed that the smile didn't reach her eyes. "You did right to bring him here. We will take care of him, but you must never speak of him again."

She looked over at Guy, who saw the ice in his wife's eyes and nodded. "Right, I'll take care of him Annie. Don't worry, he will be safe."

Annie smiled, though tears streamed down her face. She left then, sneaking out in the predawn night. Guy turned to where Branwyn was looking down at the sleeping child. "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking what he might look like if it were my face mixed with yours." She looked up at him, smiling. "I was thinking what our son might be like."

"Branwyn, I am so sorry…"

"No, no, of course. It was before you had met me. However," she looked up at him, her eyes once again dangerous. "He must be gotten rid of. No one can ever know about him. This…accident of yours must be disposed of."

"I'll leave him in the woods," Guy said, taking the child from his wife's arms. "I'll leave him out. It'll be…better that way."

"I don't care how you do it, just do it quickly. And then come back to me," she added with a smile.

He nodded, his own smile hidden in his eyes. "As soon as I can."

Early the next morning, a messenger came from Nottingham to Locksley. Branwyn was there alone—Guy had left on a hunt for Robin and his men to conduct a very clever trick involving some stolen horses. So Branwyn went out to face the messenger alone, finally feeling like her real life was starting. The man on the horse was out of breath, as though he had run the journey on foot rather than on a horse. Branwyn's blood ran cold at the possibilities of urgent messages. None of the possibilities seemed very good.

"My lady," the breathless man said, falling to one knee in front of her. "I relay a message from the Sheriff."

"Yes, of course, of course. Please tell me."

The man stood, keeping his head respectfully bowed. "It concerns your friends, Lady Adelina and Lady Eleanor."

Branwyn's heart stopped. "Are they alright?"

"I…don't know, my lady," the man said slowly. "News arrived this morning that they did not return to their homes. Their parents' envoys left early yesterday evening for home and the two girls were to follow them this morning, but they never arrived. It is believed they are held by Robin Hood."

Branwyn's face smoothed into a total calm, but her eyes were dangerous. "Thank you for informing me, sir. You have done your duty well and I shall commend you to our lord the Sheriff later. In the meantime, I would appreciate if you would inform my stablemen that I need my horse readied. I ride to Nottingham."

The man bowed and left and Branwyn went into the house, giving pointed orders to every servant she saw. It was sounding more and more like she was to be in Nottingham for a few days, which would mean that the servants would need to keep the house running. She breezed up to her bedroom, packed an extra dress in her saddlebag, and made her way quickly to the stables. She rode long and hard until she arrived in Nottingham, where Guy and the Sheriff were both conveniently outside.

"Branwyn," Guy said, surprised to see his wife at the castle. He knew it was not her favourite of their homes. "What's wrong?"

"Is it true that Robin Hood has Adelina and Eleanor?"

Guy looked over at the Sheriff who was nodding, coolly sympathetic. "It would appear so, Lady Branwyn. Never fear, we shall get them back."

"Indeed we shall," Branwyn replied, lost in her determination. She turned the horse around and galloped away from the castle. Behind her, the Sheriff looked incredulously up at Guy, who was smirking as he watched his new wife ride away.

"Gisborne! Go get her! She'll ruin everything!"

"Right away, my lord," Guy said, smirking still at his wife's headstrongness. He mounted his horse, a beautiful black stallion, and headed off after his wife. It didn't take long for him to match her speed and trot alongside her, his face stern as his mind filled with thoughts for her safety. "Branwyn, come back to the castle."

"No," she said, coolly defiant, her eyes still fixed determinately on the horizon. "Hood has my friends; that is one step too far."

"I don't want him to have you, too," Guy countered flatly, speeding his horse to cut in front of Branwyn, forcing her to stop running.

She frowned, her perfect brow furrowing. "Sir Guy, you have to let me get them back."

"We will get them back," he said, so confidently that even headstrong Branwyn believed him.

She sighed. "If he does anything to them…"

"If he does anything to them, he has us to answer to." Branwyn still hesitated, but turned her horse and followed Guy back to Nottingham. They walked arm-in-arm to her room. "You should stay here," Guy said.

Branwyn smirked. "You're right—I _should_. But if they have Eleanor and Adelina, I'm not going to stay here waiting around for them to be returned to us dead."

Guy watched his wife for a moment before relenting with a smile. "We need to talk to the Sheriff."

"Of course," Branwyn said primly, resting her hand gently in her husband's and walking beside him to the large room that the Sheriff had effectively made his office. The slimiest man Branwyn could possibly ever imagine sat there, behind the desk, sponging his toes with the black mixture that he enjoyed using to dye his toenails. When they entered, he looked up with a grin.

"Ah, Gisborne! And Lady Gisborne! Just who I was looking for," he blew on his toes and then stood, rounding his desk and rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I have thought of the answer to all of our problems." There was a pause as he waited in anticipation for one of them to ask the question he always wanted to hear. It made him feel clever.

Gisborne, dutiful as he was, was the first to ask, accompanied by a heavy roll of his eyes as soon as the Sheriff had his back turned. "What's the plan?" Branwyn bit back a laugh at her husband's annoyed yet indulgent expression and when Guy caught sight of her, he smiled.

The Sheriff took his seat behind the desk with glee written all over his face. "We're going to use his most prized possession against him. Tonight is the night Robin Hood breathes his last."

Eleanor and Adelina grinned as the outlaws appreciatively dug into the stew that the two women had made them. Much was sulking in the corner, but even he couldn't deny that the two women were excellent cooks. Adelina and Eleanor served themselves last and went to sit by Allan and Robin, respectively.

Allan grinned at Adelina as she sat. "Not bein' funny, this may be the best thing I've ever eaten."

Will smirked at Adelina. "You should be careful, my lady; they aren't joking when they say that a way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"Oh, I know." Adelina said with a coy smirk.

Allan's surprised yet not unpleased expression caused Robin to laugh and turn to Eleanor. "And was this your plan as well?"

Eleanor shrugged, a modest smile on her face. "It wouldn't be truthful if I told you no, Lord Locksley."

"Then you should be careful too. Your plan is working." Robin's grin faded quickly as thoughts of the morning flashed through his memory. "Now we need to focus. We have to get Roy back and we have to get the child to safety. What is our plan?"

They spent a few hours talking through different scenarios, and Adelina and Eleanor proved to be the most helpful of the lot. Finally, as lunch finished, Robin stood, helping Eleanor up. "Well then, ladies and gents, I think it's about time we stormed the castle."

Roy wasn't sure what to expect when he was summoned to the Sheriff's office, but he knew it wouldn't be pleasant. A pair of lightly armed guards led him into the room, swinging open to reveal the Sheriff at his desk, still dabbing at his toes with black goo which was in a small bowl being held by Guy of Gisborne, who was leaning up against the desk with his back to Roy. Also in the room was Sir Guy's new wife, who was staring into the fire, also angled away from Roy. None of them but the Sheriff responded when he entered.

"Ah," the Sheriff said, without looking up. "'Royston White, I fight for king and country,' hm?" He chuckled a bit at his own bad impression of Roy's spiel, and Guy placed the bowl he held down, circling the desk and giving Roy a critical once-over. "Blah-dee-blah-dee-blah. Now look, I'll be blunt," Roy looked from Guy's face to Branwyn's face. The new Lady Gisborne had turned and was facing Roy now, her face smooth but her eyes dangerous. "I have a favour to ask." Roy looked to Guy, who gave a half-amused but totally icy smirk. "I would be very grateful if you were to use this," the Sheriff held up a small dagger, "on our mutual friend, Robin Hood."

Roy felt numb. "I'd sooner kill me own mother."

The Sheriff gave a false laugh that sounded tersely apologetic. "Yes, what an amazing coincidence." He nodded to Guy, who moved towards the doors with a dry grin on his face. Roy looked to Branwyn, whose smooth face had been exchanged for a dangerous grin that was eerily like one her husband might wear. Roy gulped gently. "You see," the Sheriff continued, "when people say things like 'I'd sooner kill me own mother,' they don't usually have that statement tested." The Sheriff bit his lip in glee and nodded to where Guy stood, giving a sarcastic smile and half-bow toward the door, where Roy looked to see his mother being escorted by guards.

"Mother," Roy said, tears forming in his eyes.

Her legs began to give way under the shock of seeing her long-lost son, tears freely wetting her cheeks. "Oh! Royston! I thought you were dead." Her sobs were open and heavy, and Guy watched with amusement as he closed the door behind her with an eerie finality. Roy's lip began to tremble. "I thought you were dead," she repeated, putting a hand up to her mouth.

"I was gonna come back," Roy said pathetically, no longer bothering to try and hide his tears. "I was gonna come back when things were better, but they never got better."

She let out a sob and the Sheriff, who had been watching as though it were a performance for his amusement, smiled. "Oh yes, I like this. This is good, hm? The horns of dilemma: kill Robin or, kill mother." He leaned forward in his seat. "So, what's it to be?"

"I'll not do it," Roy said as though it were obvious.

"No," the Sheriff said, standing up and breezing past Branwyn with a little nudge, picking up the dagger as he moved. "You do not understand what dilemma means. It means you have to do one, or the other. You have to _decide_." He was standing in front of Roy's mother now, green eyes gleaming maliciously. "And if you don't, well let's just say: I'll decide for you, hm? So," he took the towel that had been draped over his neck and wiped the tears from Mary's eyes. "Should we say, sunrise? Tomorrow? I don't know about you, but I work best with a deadline." The Sheriff was in Roy's face now. "Of course, when people say _deadline_, they don't usually mean that somebody will be _dead_ at the end of it." The Sheriff draped the dagger over Roy's neck and followed the guards as they led Roy from the room. Mary was led out the other exit, and Guy moved to where Branwyn stood at the window, watching as the Sheriff set up Roy's fake escape.

"I hesitate to say anything that man comes up with is clever," Branwyn said as she felt her husband join her. "But this actually might work."

Guy didn't answer her.

Eleanor watched Robin and Roy ride off, her gut turning. Something was off about Roy, something more than usual. Adelina joined her friend as the two men galloped off. "I'm going to miss that baby," Adelina said with a frown. "He was adorable. Something about those crystal clear blue eyes, you know?" Eleanor looked at Adelina for a moment before turning to walk past her friend with a roll of her eyes. "What?" Adelina called after her friend. "Was it something I said?"

Eleanor climbed up onto her horse with a shake of her head. "I agree with Much," Eleanor said. "Something is wrong."

Adelina climbed onto her horse and nodded. "Obviously. Someone told Branwyn that we've been kidnapped. I wonder who told them that!"

"You're with a group of criminals," Allan pointed out as they began to ride back towards their camp. "It's not exactly out of the ordinary to assume…"

They rode until sundown, when they met Robin and Roy where they had been told. Roy seemed distraught, but no one thought much of it until the evening.

Robin and Eleanor sat up together in the moonlight while the rest of the gang slept. Makeshift hammocks hung throughout the room, and in one far corner Allan sat slumped with Adelina resting her head on his shoulder. Their relationship was simple, but everyone was eagerly awaiting their official announcement. They were a match made in heaven, that much had been clear.

Things were not so simple for Eleanor and Robin.

A few moments of silence passed between them. Robin was drawing shapes in the sand with one of his arrows while Eleanor's fingers moved a needle and thread quickly through some of the outlaw's spare clothing that needed mending. Robin smiled.

"You really don't need to do that."

Eleanor looked at him out of the corner of her eye and gave a solemn little shrug. "I know. You've told me four times already."

Robin smirked. "And I meant it."

"Idle hands are the devil's play things. And I intend to keep mine moving."

Robin chuckled. "I don't see the devil being interested in a woman like you."

"No, I don't suppose you can. Though piety means nothing to a man like you."

Robin looked at her, genuine insult lining his expression. "And what does that mean?"

Eleanor put her sewing down and turned to face him. "Forgive me if I am being forward, Lord Locksley, or if I am mistaken, but I thought that we shared a mutual affection."

There was a pause, and Robin was grateful no one else was awake. "I...thought so as well."

"And yet, this afternoon you spent a very long time in intimate conversation with Lady Marian who, if I am not mistaken, you spent a period of time betrothed to."

Robin rolled his eyes, throwing the stick he had been using to doodle away from himself in frustration. "And now I am no _longer_ betrothed to her." He shook his head. "You cannot possibly doubt my affections for you."

Eleanor scoffed as she continued pulling the needle through the thread in exact rhythm. "I doubt your sincerity-you have a bit of a reputation."

Robin chuckled. "And what will it take to disprove my reputation? A wedding?" He asked the question sarcastically, but sobered immediately when he saw Eleanor's sideways glance. "The forest is no place for a lady."

"And who is making that decision," Eleanor asked dryly, a hint of anger playing around the edges of her tone. "You?"

Robin grinned, giving another rueful shake of his head. "Eleanor-" His thought went incomplete as suddenly Roy appeared, wielding a dagger. As Robin and Roy struggled, Eleanor raised the alarm, waking the other outlaws. Robin had Roy pinned, and chaos ensued for a few moments of noise and struggle until John and Allan pulled Robin off and hoisted Roy, who was insisting that he had no other choice, to his feet.

"_What_ is going _on_?!" John demanded, his sleep-clouded head spinning from the chaos.

Much thrust an accusatory finger at Roy. "This one tried to kill Robin!"

As though by magic, the fog cleared from John's brain. "_What_? Wh-? R-?" The massive man stuttered for a few moments, bewildered by the idea. Then, focusing his attention on Roy, John's face reflected the immense hurt this action had caused him. "You were like my _son_!" A pause, and then John suddenly decked Roy, throwing him against the wall and igniting a new struggle. Robin soon subdued John, everyone now fully awake and alarmed.

"What have I ever done to you to make you want to kill me?" Robin asked, sitting on a bale of hay as Eleanor went to check his wounded elbow.

Roy hunched against the wall, sobbing helplessly. "My mother. They've got me mother."

"And they'll kill her...unless you kill me first."

Roy nodded pathetically. "She'll hang at dawn," he sobbed.

"I hate the Sheriff," Will spat as he vocalized the thoughts of every man and woman in the room.

Robin moved to crouch in front of Roy. "And the story about the child's mother? That was a lie too?"

Roy sniffed. "Gisborne is the father."

"Gisborne?" Will echoed disbelievingly.

"The mother's a kitchen girl," Roy expounded.

Adelina gave an amused snort. "Branwyn must be ready to kill."

Eleanor nodded. Much shook his head. "But none of this means that this one can go around killing _my _master!"

"Come on," Robin said, gathering his bow and quiver. "We have two mothers to rescue before sunrise."

The gang went to leave, enacting a previously thought of and well-proven entrance plan. On their way to their positions, Eleanor laid hand on Robin's arm. "Bring this to Branwyn," she said, handing Robin a letter. "It will answer a lot of her questions."

Robin hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright. And Eleanor," he called as she turned to leave. When she stopped, he approached her, dropping to one knee. "I am prepared to do whatever it takes to prove my affection to you. Would you do me the highest honour of becoming my bride?"

"Of course," Eleanor whispered happily, dropping to her knees and cradling his face in her hand, allowing him to slowly steal a kiss.

Robin and the men charged away to the castle, leaving Adelina and Eleanor to trot back to the forest. Adelina giggled lightly before leaning over to her dear friend. "You know, you really are as smart as they get, Ella."

Eleanor paused walking for a moment, confused. "What do you mean?"

Adelina shrugged innocently, "With the winter months coming, the marriage bed will really help to keep you warm."

Eleanor stood with her mouth agape. "Adelina! Y-you can't just...say things...like...that."

Adelina grinned. "I'm just saying. I know at least _mine _will be."

"Adelina, you aren't even betrothed."

"Not yet." Adelina responded confidently.

The two friends continued on in silence with Eleanor shocked by Adelina's blunt musings and Adelina amused by Eleanor's maidenly blush. But both of them walked back feeling like they were walking on clouds, knowing that they each had gained a lifetime of treasure overnight.

Branwyn was just putting the finishing touches on her outfit when she heard the door open behind her. It was before the sun rose, and she was only up because her husband and the Sheriff were tying off the ends of their most recent plan. She was due to meet Guy any moment to go to the dungeon where Robin and his men would inevitably be if the Sheriff's little plot to get Robin murdered in his sleep had failed. When she heard the door to her room open she assumed it would be her husband, come to collect her. She found a very different person.

Taking the dagger she kept on her desk, she held it menacingly out toward Allan A Dale, who had his hands up in innocence. "I'm just makin' a delivery," he said, extending the letter he held in his hand. "From Adelina and Eleanor."

Branwyn lowered the dagger, relief in her eyes. "Are they alright?"

Allan nodded. "They said to give you this. No need to worry about me readin' it-I never learned."

"Of course," Branwyn said distractedly, opening the letter. "Tell them thank you."

Allan nodded, disappearing out of the room before Branwyn had a chance to arrest him. She looked down at the letter, cursing Eleanor, who knew very well that Branwyn couldn't read. She stuck her head out in the hall, relieved to find her husband there.

"Sir Guy," she called, gaining his attention. When he approached the door, she held out the letter. "Would you do me the favour of reading this letter?"

He took the letter and read it, pausing at the end as they both took in the contents of the letter. Eleanor was writing that she and Adelina were healthy and safe, much to Branwyn's relief, but that they were going to be remaining with the outlaws. It would seem that both of them had fallen in love with outlaws and didn't want to be parted with them. Branwyn felt as though she had been hit in the stomach. Her dearest friends were betraying her, and she would never be able to see them again. A knock on the door summoned Branwyn from her thoughts. She would have to worry about her friends later. For now, her determination to see the gang dead was doubled. With Hood and his men out of the way, she would have her friends back. And she _would_ have her friends back.

The sun was tinging the morning air a beautiful and chilling ice blue as Branwyn stood with her husband, watching the heavily guarded outlaws be lined up to witness the execution of Mary White. She wasn't taking any pleasure from the morning, which already had the smell of death heavy in the air, and her thoughts were dwelling still with her friends.

They had fallen in _love_ and they expected that to be an acceptable excuse to Branwyn? She had never fallen in love, and yet she was happy enough in her marriage. Why couldn't her friends have the same? Why couldn't they be happy with that kind of life? Why did they need an outlaw to make them happy? What was love anyway-Branwyn couldn't imagine a marriage based on love. She had never seen one before. How did Adelina and Eleanor even know they were in love?

She was pulled from her mildly bitter thoughts when the kitchen girl who had borne her husband's son suddenly threw herself at Guy, holding a dagger to his throat. Branwyn staggered backwards in surprise, gaining her bearings after a moment to listen to the girl's rant. The Sheriff clucked at Gisborne, turning to Branwyn. "Did you know about this?"

Before she could give her defiant defense, Robin and his gang took the opportunity to escape, while Guy flung Annie down. She was rescued by Allan A Dale, who gave Guy a sharp kick to the face. Branwyn was instantly at her husband's side, looking over his face for any obvious injury. Finding none, she sprung to her feet, pulling a dagger from her shoe. Once fully erect she came eye-to-eye with Robin, who had just freed Mary from her noose.

"To the horses!"

The outlaws went to make their retreat, but the Sheriff quickly had Roy in a lock, pressing a dagger to his throat. "Locksley! Why so much haste, _my friend_? Sorry to ruin your day but if you leave, he gets it." With a sick grin, he leaned to mutter in Roy's ear. "This is our old friend the dilemma calling."

Robin drew an arrow and Much took a step forward. "Master, you cannot give yourself up every five minutes!"

"Robin, no!" Roy said, sadness once again leaking into his gaze.

"Robin, yes," the Sheriff countered with a smile.

"Let him go," Robin said, still holding the arrow drawn. "Or we all die here today."

"Oh come along, Robin, we both of us know that we've had this conversation many times. And we also both know that you're _not the killing kind_! But me," he mouthed, chuckling, his thought cut off by a great howl from Roy, followed by a sharp headbutt to the face.

"Run! For my mother! For the baby!"

Branwyn watched from the corridor as Royston White was stabbed to death, stunned by the display of heroism she had playing out before her. Roy had love great enough to die for the people that love was channeled towards. Perhaps, if love was truly that great, Branwyn would allow her friends to feel it as well. To have that kind of life. But she would still find a way to be their friend. After all, they were the only people who even came close to loving her the way that Roy loved his mother.

That morning, Eleanor and Adelina stood with the outlaws and Mary and Annie, watching flames burn the few things they had in tribute to Roy. That afternoon, Marian arrived in the woods to bring Annie and the baby to a new life outside of the realm of Guy and Branwyn's influence. With her, she brought news that Adelina and Eleanor had been declared outlaws.

"It would seem that Branwyn had a word with the Sheriff," she said coolly, her words full of spite for the new Lady Gisborne. "And she's had you both declared outlaws."

Eleanor's mind was spinning, trying to comprehend why Branwyn would possibly do such a thing. Adelina, meanwhile, laughed. "Oh, she's brilliant!"

Eleanor shot a glare in Adelina's direction. "No, she is _not_. You realize what this means?!"

Adelina looked over to Allan, a grin on her face and a twinkle in her eyes. "Oh yes, I do."

Eleanor sighed, her annoyance growing at Adelina's completely juvenile behaviour. Eleanor valued her life as a noble, partially because she knew no other life. She had been taught what women should and should not do, and she was relatively certain that living as an outlaw would not be counted amongst the things that would be acceptable for her to do.

After Annie and the baby were seen safely off, the gang headed back to their camp, gearing up for a quiet evening and a decent night's sleep. But Robin stopped Eleanor.

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely.

Eleanor shook her head, doing her best to hold back the tears that had been threatening to fall all afternoon. "It's alright. Just Branwyn being Branwyn."

"It's not alright," he said gently. "I intend to do what I can to make it better."

Eleanor raised an eyebrow. "And what's that?"

Robin smiled. "Come with me." He led her into Locksley, to the church. "I know typically I wouldn't have seen you earlier, but there's nothing I could do."

Eleanor was smiling, though she tried to look disappointed. "So sudden, Lord Locksley! Do you expect me to marry you on the spot?"

Robin just smiled. "Yes."

"Very well then," Eleanor said with a laugh. "I have nothing in this world but you, and that is treasure enough for me. I will marry you, Robin, and give you the greatest dowry I can."

"And what's that?"

"My whole heart and soul. My everything. All of me, forever."

Robin grinned, leading her up to the altar where the priest stood ready. "And that is all I can ask for."

Much and Adelina appeared to serve as witnesses, and the service passed quickly. Suddenly, Eleanor found herself married to the greatest man she had ever known, and she felt a bit of smugness towards Branwyn. Her husband may have been an outlaw, but he was still a more honest man than Sir Guy would ever be.

15


	4. Turk Flu

**Author's Note: Hi everyone! So first of all: please, please, please review! We have been dying to see what you think! Secondly: hopefully you'll start noticing all of this start developing for the better. Thirdly: we are sort of assuming that y'all have seen the show or at least know about the show so we're skipping a lot of the exact word-for-word stuff as much as we can. Like, if a scenario wouldn't have changed at all from the original, it isn't necessarily in here. So, yeah. Anyway. Keep reading and please, please, please tell us what you think! -Tawny**

Branwyn found her husband in the stables. It had been two weeks since she had her friends outlawed, allowing them to marry the men they claimed to love. Since then, life had settled into a bit of a routine. Branwyn hated living at the castle, and so had convinced Guy to spend a week in Locksley with her. She was thriving on his company, more than she would have thought. They might not have shared a loving relationship like what her friends apparently enjoyed, but Branwyn's husband was a considerate man and they mutually enjoyed the other's company. That particular morning, a month and a half into their marriage, Branwyn had exciting news to share with her husband, though when she found him he was a bit distracted.

"Where are you going?" She asked as he saddled his favourite horse.

He regarded her for a moment before turning back to his task. "There was a collapse at my mine this morning. I'm going to look over the damage."

"Can I come?" Branwyn asked, very eager to share with Guy the news that she had, as well as getting a chance to travel outside the confines of the village.

Guy hesitated for a moment. The mine was no place for someone like Branwyn, especially as she was his wife. But ultimately, he conceded, finding himself riding out with three guards and a very pleased Branwyn.

The devastation from the mine was staggering. Branwyn looked around at the chaos in shock as her husband helped her off her horse. "We'll not go down there again!" An old man yelled at Guy as the Gisbornes surveyed the damage together.

"You'll do as I say," Guy said plainly, his face stone.

"My brother's dead!"

"And your behaviour suggests that you'd care to join him."

"We're on strike," the man said, prompting both Guy and Branwyn to give him dangerous looks. "Till it's shored up proper, you'll not get a miner down that death pit of yours again."

"And you'd rather die here?" Guy asked, looking down his nose at the peasant man.

"Yes. I'd rather my soul roamed free up here then get trapped down there again."

Guy rolled his eyes and both he and Branwyn turned in the direction of the horse they could hear coming towards them. The Sheriff dismounted his horse by using one of the guards as a footstool. As he stepped down, he pointed to the guard. "Stay."

"They claim they'd die rather than go back down," Guy informed the Sheriff.

"You're giving them choices." The Sheriff said, flatly disbelieving.

Guy paused for a moment, and Branwyn watched as the words sunk in. Then, in one slowing movement, he turned, drew a dagger, and plunged it into the man's belly as the man's son looked on. The mingled look of sorrow and rage in the boy's eyes caused Branwyn to feel some pity for the lad. The young man struggled as a man and a woman held him back.

Branwyn went slack jawed as the Sheriff gave a little half-smirk, rolling the dead man over with his foot. "Very good, Gisborne." Branwyn set her jaw again, maintaining her composure as the Sheriff continued. "Well," the Sheriff gave the workers a derogatory smirk. "Enjoy the strike! Make you feel much better. Goodbye." Turning and walking back towards his horse, he breezed past the Gisbornes. "They're all sacked."

"Really? My lord, we need the mine working," Guy reminded him, the adrenaline from his latest kill running off.

"_Really_?" The Sheriff droned sarcastically. With a contented sigh, he added. "Forward planning, Gisborne. It's all under control. There will be fresh workers arriving who _will_ do as they're told." Mounting his horse, he grinned at the people. "By tomorrow morning, this mine will be working. Unlike you lot," he added as he rode away.

"Bury this man's body with the other's. His family will pay for the grave. They will not work, they will not be fed until I see fit. Anyone giving them assistance will hang. You are all sacked," Guy said, turning to return to his horse. "Go home."

He helped Branwyn up onto her horse and together they turned to go back home. Looking at her thoughtfully out of the corner of his eye, Guy watched as his wife remained stoic the entire ride back to their manor. Upon their return, he helped her dismount and then guided her face so she was looking him in the eye. "Do you think I am being harsh?"

"Not at all," Branwyn said quickly and determinately. "They earned everything that just happened."

Guy nodded. A moment passed, and he turned to go back into the house. Branwyn hesitated, but followed him. They only walked a few paces before he turned again. "Branwyn," he said, forcibly. Catching himself, he took a deep breath. "Today, I am attending-as I am sure you know-and I wanted to ask, and I suppose you were expecting this, however I thought it would be proper for me to formally ask you."

Branwyn waited for him to go on before leaning forward, goading a response. "Ask me?"

Guy nodded, awkwardly earnest. "If you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the Sheriff's fair as my personal guest."

Branwyn grinned. "Of course, my lord, it would be my honour."

"Excellent," Guy said with a relieved grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have preparations to make."

He left then, and Branwyn remembered that she had searched him out that morning for a reason. She did have something she needed to tell her husband. Laying a hand on her stomach, she smiled. It could wait until the fair.

Almost everyone in the camp was asleep. Robin had left Eleanor asleep in the little tent that he had fashioned for them after their marriage to afford them some privacy, abandoning her in favour of practicing for the archery competition that would be held at the Sheriff's fair. He, of course, would not be attending the fair but he had been going on about the competition for days. The prize was a silver arrow, and Robin dreamed about how many they could feed with that much silver in their hold.

Much awoke and gave a mighty stretch, an arrow flying in between his fingers, bearing some bread and meat. "I knew you'd be like this." Robin turned to find Eleanor standing in the door of their tent, her arms crossed. "If you're so bothered about the archery competition-"

"I'm not!"

Eleanor gave him a knowing look. "If you're so bothered, we could always have a little competition here."

"I do not want to be in the archery competition!" Robin said, skewering more food and drawing the arrow back in his bow. "Even if there is a silver arrow for the winner." He shot the arrow above where Adelina slept. She and Allan were in a carved-out hollow of rock and tree, Allan sleeping on the higher ledge and Adelina a few feet below him on the lower ledge. They still remained unwed, though Eleanor had confided in Robin that she expected them to alter that any day.

"Just as well," Much said as Allan pulled the arrow out from over Adelina, biting into it with a cheeky grin at the now disappointed and still hungry Adelina. The indignant girl hoisted herself up and smacked Allan on the leg. Allan let out a light chuckle, then continued to ignore whatever was being said and enjoyed his food. "Because by the time we've done a little hunting and had ourselves a decent feast, there'll be no time to go to Nottingham and get ourselves hanged!"

Guy returned to Locksley in a rage. Branwyn heard him enter and hurried down the stairs from their room. "Guy, what's wrong?"

"One of Hood's men tried to feed the miners today!" He said, pulling off his gloves and throwing them onto the table. "The so-called Night Watchman! I had him at the tip of my sword and he got away."

"You'll have another chance," Branwyn soothed, handing him a small cup of ale. "He's robbed before-surely he'll rob again."

"Oh, I'll have another chance," Guy said. "I got his arm with my blade. His left arm bears a fresh wound." Guy's face twisted into a hateful scowl. "I'll get him."

"Of course," Branwyn soothed again, gesturing to a seat for her husband.

She sat across from him and he finished his drink, gazing over at where she sat, hemming one of his old shirts that needed touching up. He started a few silent sentences, always stopping when he feared he might sound awkward. Eventually relenting his fate, he cleared his throat. "How has your morning been?"

The question caught Branwyn off guard and she jabbed her finger with the needle. "Oh!"

Guy startled, leaning forward and holding out his hand. "Let me see," he said, gently taking her hand in his and pressing a handkerchief to the small wound. "I'm sorry."

Branwyn shook her head, hoping the blush on her cheeks was not as furious as it felt. "No, it was a silly mistake. I am the one who should be apologizing." She paused as he hesitated before gently kissing her finger. "M-my morning has been full," she said distractedly. "It would seem a few men from Locksley were among the dead in the mining accident and their widows came to me for aid. Of course, I turned them away..." She trailed off as he wrapped the small wound in a tiny piece of fabric, tying it off and wrapping her fingers into her palm, enclosing his hand around hers and looking up at her earnestly. She blinked, clearing her thoughts. "And then I have spent time preparing for this afternoon's fair."

He nodded. "Very good," he said, still watching her as though he were trying to see inside her thoughts. "I...am sorry about this morning." When she raised an eyebrow, he clarified, "When I killed the man."

She gave a breezy laugh. "You have nothing to apologize for, the man deserved what he got."

Once again, Guy found himself surprised by Branwyn. He had married her for the reasons men usually married in his time: she was beautiful, wealthy, powerful, and had a brother who was an Earl. But her easiness around his own profession and willingness to follow him through whatever means necessary had quickly endeared her to him. Guy remembered his parent's marriage as one of perfect love, and he pondered every day that he saw Branwyn whether one day he could earn that kind of relationship. He wondered if Branwyn could ever love him.

She watched him carefully, and when he realized he was under her scrutiny he stood rapidly, picking up his gloves. "The miner's families are having the funerals now. The Sheriff and I are going to be sure everything is in order." He held out a hand. "Would you like to come?"

Branwyn shook her head, not making eye contact with him. "No, I...I have much to do before the fair this afternoon."

"Of course," Guy said, retracting his hand. "I shall be by later to escort you myself."

"Thank you," she said, only looking up at him as he walked out the door.

Robin had been driving them crazy all morning, shooting everything and anything he could see in the camp. Eleanor was just about to make up a reason to send him off on a chore when Will came bounding into the camp.

"The trap worked!" He said gleefully. "We caught one. A cart! Let's go!" He began darting back off, followed by hastily scrambling outlaws including Adelina and Eleanor, who usually remained behind for their ambushes but needed a reason to get out of the camp. "Let's go!"

They followed Will to the road where the cart trap had been laid, a muddy pit where a covered cart sat half-sunk, a very angry fat man trying his best to push it free. "Ahhhh! Rubbishing! And you-rubbishing!" When he caught sight of the outlaws, he rolled his eyes in disbelief of his bad luck. "Here," he said, tossing them a leather bag. "It's all I have of value. Check it!"

Robin nodded Much forward, and he pulled from the bag a circle of well-polished glass. "Pretty," he remarked, holding it up for everyone to see. "Not very appetizing."

A noise emerged from the covered part of the cart, and the driver looked skyward in exasperation. "Livestock?" Robin asked.

The man looked over at Robin, almost pleadingly. "Take one. Let me on me way. They'll work for ya," the man added as Robin jumped off the log he was perched on and began towards the cart. "They understand simple commands. New men for the Sheriff's mine," he explained as Robin pulled away the covering from the cart to reveal a small huddled mass of Saracen men. Behind him, Eleanor and Adelina both took an automatic and unconscious step back.

"Slaves?" Much stuttered as Robin replaced the covering on the cart.

"Eleanor," Robin said, his voice friendly but his eyes telling a different story. "Get our friend some food! He's sure to have had a long journey."

Eleanor looked back to the cart before turning to follow her husband's request, returning with some pieces of chicken and bread, and a fresh wineskin. Adelina joined Much and Allan where they stood watching the slaves. "I never thought I'd see this again," Much said sadly. "Outrageous. A disgrace. Trading people."

"Would you like some more wine?" Robin asked their guest, ignoring Eleanor who hovered as close to her husband as possible while remaining a great distance from the slaves. He handed the man another wineskin and joined Allan, Adelina, and Much.

"I'm not bein' funny," Allan said as Robin walked up. "But you brought him here for a picnic?"

"We need him. He's our way into the mine."

"There is no way into the mine," Much droned, leaning forward on his bow.

Robin shook his head slightly in determination. "We are going to stop this. This is a gift," Robin said firmly. "We will close the mine once and for all. We will _stop_ this human trafficking."

Allan and Adelina didn't look convinced, though Adelina was more focused on her trepidation of the slaves than her doubt in the plausibility of Robin's convictions. Behind them, the trader was beginning to get a bit tipsy, prompting Robin to rejoin him, John, and Eleanor.

"I thought you were going to slit me throat. Or worse," the man said with a laugh.

"We don't do throat slitting." Robin laughed. "Too messy." Eleanor looked at him in alarm, only to be met with a wink. "Now you've eaten, I would like to feed your prisoners," Robin said, prompting more alarm from his wife who most certainly did not want to approach the cart to give food to the strange foreigners.

"No meat-makes 'em spirited, ya see. Oh, and keep your distance. Don't let 'em breathe on ya. Disease. Some of our soldiers dropped dead after getting too close!"

"Dropped dead?" Will asked, echoing the fears of both Eleanor and Adelina, who were now standing three paces away from the rest of the outlaws.

"Oh, aye," the man said genially. "One minute stood there strong as you, the next? Brains drippin' from their nostrils." He paused, then laughed as the outlaws all looked at the slaves in horror, barring Robin. Then the man spit and nodded. "Water-that'll do 'em. They had some scraps earlier. There used to be a decent living to be made sellin' folk, then the Pope goes and bans trading Christians. Thank goodness King Richard likes his wars abroad."

Eleanor listened in horror, watching as Robin consoled Will, starting from her thoughts when her husband suddenly planted a kiss on Will Scarlet's cheek. "_You_ are a genius." Calling over his shoulder, Eleanor could hear the grin in his voice. "John: have a drink with our friend."

As soon as John had their "friend" unconscious, Robin began hashing out their plan. "We need to get rid of the guards in the mine. One of you has to travel inside the cage as a prisoner." Everyone's hesitation showed on their faces. Even Eleanor and Adelina, both of whom knew they would never even be considered for the task, paled a bit at the thought. "We need a man on the inside to start the rumour of Turk Flu!"

Much nodded, rolling the plant root between his fingers. "I volunteer."

Eleanor looked over at Robin's cowardly right hand in shock while Robin nodded gratefully. "Yes! Much, thank you!"

"Allan," Much handed the plant to Allan, who shrugged, ignoring Adelina's non-verbal protest.

"And what?" Allan said, sniffing the root. "I eat this, do I?"

"No," Robin said urgently. "Just...chew. There is _nothing_ to fear. Once the guards believe the prisoners have a disease they'll run for their lives!"

"Well, surely only the stupid among them is going to fall for it I mean-Turk Flu?" Much didn't look convinced, though Eleanor thought that Robin's plan had merit.

"People fear what they do not understand," she said, though her voice betrayed her own fear.

"I wasn't scared," Will said defensively, prompting a chuckle from John.

"Will, you prove her point," Robin said with a smirk. "If even _you_ had doubts, the Sheriff's men...they'll be a pushover."

"But it'll never work," Much whined. "I've got another idea. Instead of relying on the Sheriff's men being as stupid as," he gestured behind him with the leather pouch containing the glass, and was immediately set upon by one of the Saracens. A struggle ensued and though the slave got a hold of the pouch, Robin learned that at least one of them spoke English.

Behind them, Allan gave a whistle. They followed him, and they all watched as Branwyn and Guy rode through the forest in their coach. Robin's face fell into a flat line. "We need to move quickly," he said as the coach disappeared through the trees. "They'll be making a stop by the mine, no doubt, and the Sheriff'll be wanting his workers."

Adelina, meanwhile, was trying her hardest not to laugh as she and Eleanor watched Much interact with the Saracen called Djaq. When Allan came up behind Much, causing the loyal sidekick to jump five feet, Adelina laughed. Beside her, Eleanor frowned. "Stop, Adelina. It isn't funny."

"Actually, it _is_," Adelina guffawed, wiping tears from her eyes. "I like that girl."

Eleanor's eyes went wide. "That isn't a girl."

"Not bein' funny, but yes it is." Eleanor went wide-eyed as she reached the same conclusion as Adelina. "Told ya. Her secret's safe with us, though, eh? Wouldn't want anyone finding out and using it against her."

"No, of course." Eleanor hadn't truly been listening to her friend as she watched Allan and Much tie up the trader. Her mind was still dwelling with Robin's apparent affections for the Turk. In all her upbringing, she had been taught that Saracens were not to be trusted, not creatures to be loved but enemies to be cut down with the sword. Heathens and heretics, dangerous beings. What would it mean that her husband was a friend of these slaves? What would it mean if Djaq became a permanent fixture in her life?

Meanwhile, near the mine, the Sheriff was throwing rocks down a shaft as he waited with the Gisbornes for the slaves to arrive. Guy had tried to insist that Branwyn go ahead to the castle without him, but she had smartly and promptly refused, citing her need to be his guest as his wife.

"Of course by now _I _should be back at home," the Sheriff said, tossing a rock into the shaft. "A goblet of fine red wine in my hand. And your archer-what's his name?"

"Michael the Red."

"Michael the Red, yes..."

Guy stood up from where he had been leaning against the entrance to the mine. "My lord, if you would prefer to go back to Nottingham, I'm happy to stay here and-"

"Oh, what?" The Sheriff interjected. "Leave you in charge of the mine? I'm sorry, remind me, exactly how much iron ore have you brought to the surface today?" He turned to the guards as Guy looked away from where Branwyn was, trying to keep the shame from his face. "Can't you do some maneuvers or something? Closest I'll get to any entertainment today. And you," he turned his attention to where Branwyn stood near the coach. "Come closer, my dear, no need to be shy." Branwyn looked hesitantly at her husband, who nodded her over to the Sheriff. When she reached him, he looked her over appreciatively and gave a little hum of approval. "Very good, Gisborne, very good. As it happens, you have excellent taste in women, _lepers_ though they may be."

While the guards marched around, Branwyn, the Sheriff, and Guy all perched on hay bales, a blush consistently spread over Branwyn's cheeks as she realized the Sheriff occasionally looked her over as though she were a piece of meat. If her husband noticed that at all, he was ignoring it, which didn't do much to make Branwyn feel comfortable. The cart containing the slaves finally showed up, allowing Branwyn to be free from his lurid perusing. The slaves were loaded off the cart, and Branwyn caught sight of one of them, her eyes going wide. The woman gave her a pleading glance in return and Branwyn kept her mouth shut more out of shock than agreeability.

Satisfied with their workers and feeling sure of himself, the Sheriff joined Guy and Branwyn in the coach and rode with them to Nottingham, where preparations were already well underway for the fair. They made their entry to the fair, walking up the platform leading to their stand, the Sheriff leading as Branwyn and Guy followed shoulder-to-shoulder behind him. Branwyn's arm was loosely laced through her husband's, though she felt a bit awkward about the whole setup, especially after his behaviour at the mine.

"Don't know which is worse," the Sheriff remarked as the three of them waved to the attendees. "Wailing widows or prancing peasants. Do you see the man who you fought with?"

"Short and injured." Guy responded matter-of-factly. "Although the injury would be beneath his left sleeve."

"Perhaps we should order them all to remove their sleeves," Branwyn mused.

"Perhaps you should remember who it is who gives the orders," the Sheriff added, almost cheerfully. Nonetheless, he called the fair to order. "Thanks to the rogue element amongst you, I have been forced to introduce new security measures. The guilty object to security because the guilty have something to hide. So, I expect your full cooperation." He gestured to a guard, who brought forward a now-terrified man. "No man shall wear a sleeve on his left arm." The guards tore the sleeve from the man's arm, and both Guy and the Sheriff leaned down to catch a glimpse. Branwyn, meanwhile, had caught sight of Lady Marian in the crowd looking awfully guilty, her right hand grasping her left arm.

The Sheriff officially began the fair, and Branwyn produced an apple from her sleeve, cutting at it with a knife to try and stave off any initial boredom. As they watched male after male of every age parade before them, the Sheriff began to look nearly bored to tears. "No sign of Robin Hood."

"He's a coward," Guy droned.

"Your Michael the Red better be a winner," the Sheriff warned. "I don't want to have to give the silver arrow away."

"Well surely if Sir Guy's man wins, then he keeps the arrow," Branwyn reasoned, her hands moving deftly as she peeled the apple.

The Sheriff raised an eyebrow, giving her a nearly stoic glare. "Women are meant to be pretty faces," he replied. "Don't ruin the picture with words."

"But surely she's right," Guy clarified, feeling somewhat duped. "Surely I keep the arrow."

The Sheriff sighed, explaining his plan to Guy while watching the next three archers shoot at the target. No one had come close yet, and so there was still hope for Hood or Michael the Red.

"I see," Guy said softly as the Sheriff finished his description, then feeling absolutely duped.

"Or," the Sheriff continued. "I will hold you responsible."

Guy looked up at the sky in a silent plea for help while Branwyn swallowed her fear. Of course her husband knew what he was doing. Of course he did.

The next few archers passed slowly, one face after another, all blurring together. Finally, Michael the Red was called and Guy smiled. "Ah, this will impress you," he said, laying a hand on Branwyn's arm. She gasped, starting at the sudden contact.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered for the second time that day.

Branwyn sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. Once again, it's simply me being silly."

A moment passed, Guy's hands folded firmly in his lap. "Are you enjoying the fair?"

"Oh, yes," Branwyn said with a nod. "It's wonderful...thank you, for inviting me."

"Of course."

Another moment passed silently. Branwyn was just getting up the courage to tell her husband the news she'd been dying to tell him all day when suddenly the trader appeared and the next thing Branwyn knew, her husband and the Sheriff were riding off, leaving her in charge of the fair. Her announcement would have to wait until later.

The gang ran to the road, breathless after a narrow escape from the Sheriff and Gisborne. Robin looked around, taking in each exhausted face. "Where's Eleanor?"

"She left earlier," Adelina said, watching Allan carefully out of the corner of her eye for any sudden and hilarious symptom development from his ingestion of the plant root.

"Eh, Rowan will be sorry he missed the blaze," her favourite outlaw chimed in with a grin.

"Him? He's gone to take revenge on his enemy."

"What?" Robin asked Djaq, shaking his head. "Gisborne's here!"

"His woman," she sneered. "To tear his heart out by killing his woman."

"Branwyn!" Adelina exclaimed. "We've got to help her."

Robin thought it through for a moment before sighing. "Very well. Much, Will, Adelina-you're with me. The rest of you go back to the camp. And someone find Eleanor!"

They rushed off toward the castle and the camp, none of them truthfully going to search for Eleanor. But it was no matter-she was long gone by then.

Branwyn found presiding over the fair even more dull than simply attending it. When she was just attending, she could peel apples so the peels formed the letter 'g' and keep an eye on suspicious maidens who may or may not have had affections for her husband. But when she was presiding, she had to feign some sort of interest in the fair itself.

Truth be told, sitting on the platform presiding over the fair, Branwyn felt the surge of power she had expected to find when she married a nobleman. She was enjoying sitting on the platform, elevated above all of the common serfs, watching as the men shot arrows and pretending that they were all vying for her personal attention.

The taste of power was just barely hitting her when from somewhere in the crowd, an arrow flew through the air right at her. She didn't notice it until it was far too late, and though the arrow didn't kill her or even seriously wound her, it did create quite a deep gash in her arm. Tears staining her face as the crowd dissolved into murmurs, Branwyn slipped off the podium. Embarrassment was now replacing her power trip as she found herself back to her reality-married to a man who, though handsome and bearing grand delusions of power actually had nothing to his name, with no love or respect from the people he lorded over. She rushed to the stables, found the first stable boy she could, and demanded a horse be brought to her.

"Yes, m'lady." The lad murmured nervously as he rushed off to retrieve the horse.

Branwyn waited impatiently, desperately wanting to leave the fair far behind. The boy returned with the steed in tow. She mounted her horse swiftly and galloped out of the stables and out of Nottingham town. Branwyn rode hard and fast towards Kirklees Abbey simply to find shelter in a place where no one would look for her. She felt marginally ashamed of the gash on her arm and her previous thoughts of her husband. Kirklees Abbey would serve as a temporary haven where she would encounter no confrontation or her husband.

On her arrival, Branwyn dismounted as calmly as she could and entered the doors to the Abbey. She dutifully dipped her fingers in the holy water, crossed herself, and continued down the aisle. To her surprise, she identified a familiar figure kneeling in front of a seat. Branwyn lightly bowed before gracefully sliding into the row next to the figure. "I am surprised to see you here in the open, Eleanor." Branwyn whispered quietly, eyes half closed in mock prayer.

Eleanor started with a bounce at the sound of Branwyn's voice. "Branwyn!" She whispered loudly. "What are you doing here? It is not like you to travel so far for a little prayer."

Branwyn smirked wryly. "I suppose I was feeling the need for a pilgrimage." She looked Eleanor over, taking in the sight of her friend's once beautiful gown now weathered from life in the forest. "But what brings you out from the forest?"

Eleanor gave a little shudder, but shook her head. "It's no matter," she said indifferently. She paused for a moment, considering her friend. "It is very good to see you, Branwyn."

The barely-younger woman grinned. "And you, Ella! After you sent your letter I never thought I'd see you again. Did you marry one of them?"

Eleanor smiled despite herself at Branwyn's blunt question. "I did."

Branwyn nodded, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. She was trying to figure out how to be excited for her friend, though she hated seeing Eleanor throwing away everything she had been born into to marry some outlaw. Branwyn and Eleanor had always seen the world differently, always wanted different things for themselves. Eleanor needed to be needed. In a way, it made perfect poetical sense that she would marry an outlaw in Hood's gang and crusade against what she perceived as the world's evils. Branwyn needed to prove herself. She had set everything up around her to build her perfect life. And now, the final pieces were in place. She had her own news for Eleanor, though she wasn't sure how the newly outlawed Lady would take it.

"I'm with child." The words fell out of Branwyn, landing and creating an echo of silence around them. She had never been one for tact when it came to talking to Eleanor. "I'm going to have a baby."

Eleanor stewed in her shock for a moment, trying to ignore the looks the few nuns and monks praying with them in the Abbey were throwing in Branwyn's direction. Finally, she found words to give Branwyn, just enough to tide her over. "Congratulations, Branwyn. You'll make a splendid mother. Sir Guy must be pleased."

Branwyn suddenly found the cuffs of her dress sleeves fascinating. "He doesn't know," she murmured as she picked at a thread.

"Oh," Eleanor said, looking back at the Crucifix on the altar in front of them, sending an extra prayer for Branwyn. "Well, I'm sure he will be pleased."

"I'm sure," Branwyn said faintly. Gathering herself with a deep breath, she smiled at Eleanor again, all thoughts of her husband and her embarrassment at the fair purposefully subdued. "Tell me about your outlaw. Is he everything you ever dreamed?"

Eleanor smiled, her eyes taking on a dreamy appearance. "Oh, yes," she sighed. "He's quite perfect. Noble, strong, courageous. You'd love him."

Branwyn chuckled. "I don't know about that. After all, he works for my husband's enemy."

The smile slipped from Eleanor's face. "Actually, Branwyn, about that...it would seem we've both married...no, that's not it. What I meant to say is...no, that isn't it either."

"Same old Ella," Branwyn laughed. "Just tell me! Who is this mysterious outlaw who managed to sweep you off your feet?"

"Robin Hood," Eleanor blurted, figuring that if bluntness worked for Branwyn, then it would work for her too. A moment passed, and then two, and then three. Branwyn's head was spinning, and Eleanor was watching her carefully. "Wynnie, are you alright?"

"Please tell me you're joking," Branwyn said distantly, her face quickly losing its colour. "You couldn't possibly have married Robin Hood."

"I did," Eleanor said gently, wrapping an arm around Branwyn's shoulders. She was surprised to find something sticky on the sleeve she couldn't see, and when she pulled her hand back, she gasped. "Branwyn, what happened to your arm?!"

"Nothing, nothing. Ella I...I need to go."

Eleanor watched as Branwyn stood up quickly, needing to steady herself. "Branwyn, are you alright?"

Branwyn gave a small, bewildered nod. "Fine, fine," she said, forgetting to show respect to the altar as she stumbled out of the pew. "We should...tell Adelina."

Eleanor turned back to the Crucifix as Branwyn left the Abbey, bowing her head. "God have mercy on us," she murmured. "All of us."

Once back at the camp, Robin, Will, and Much were greeted with an inhuman grunt from Allan who sat tied up to a tree and was obviously feeling the effects of the plant root. "Him," John said, pointing at the unfortunate outlaw, then making circular gestures near his head. "Gone."

Allan let out another bark-like noise as Robin walked by laughing. Adelina sat close to her blue-eyed outlaw and rubbed his arm defensively. "Don't laugh, Robin. The poor man is suffering for our sakes."

"No food or drink for one day and night, and then he will be fine." Robin said offhandedly. Adelina, however, was distracted with Allan. She laughed almost maliciously as she dangled a twig in front of his face. The now deranged Allan leaned forward and attempted to bite the twig that seemed to taunt him. "Besides!" Robin exclaimed, "You seem to be enjoying his pathetic state far more than I."

Adelina ceased her taunting and giggled as she affectionately patted Allan's cheek. "_I _am allowed my fun, Robin of Locksley. 'Tis the privilege of my...standing with Allan." She said determinedly, straightening her back to full height for emphasis.

Much walked forward and cut into the conversation. "Well, it's just as well he can't eat seeing as there's so little venison left." The ever-hungry Much leaned forward to grab some meat before he was stopped by a threatening Little John.

"You're fasting too, aren't you?" Robin asked. "You made a promise to God!" Robin said looking up.

Eleanor walked down and began collecting the food to store and prepare it. "Careful, Much." She chided. "A promise to God is not something to be trifled with."

Much's eyes went wide. "You don't know it was him who got us out!" He said defensively. Robin scoffed and rolled his eyes. "We might've got out of there anyway." Much continued. "And if it had been him, there would have been a sign! And there was no sign. So I am going to build a fire, cook some food, and there's nothing any of you can do about it." Much finished resolutely.

All the while, Adelina sat taunting Allan with various pokes, proddings, and flicks as he grunted and groaned. Eleanor shot Adelina a disapproving glance and lightly smacked her shoulder as she walked by. Adelina shrugged innocently and mouthed the word 'What?' Eleanor merely rolled her eyes and continued on her way. There were times when she was certain she would never understand her young friend-let alone her young friend's relationship with one Allan A Dale.

Adelina heard a rustle coming from the hill behind her. She caught a glimpse of the Saracen girl called Djaq. Curious, she left her post at Allan's side and quietly scrambled to the rock behind which Djaq was hiding. "I didn't think we'd see _you _again." Adelina said with a grin on her face.

Djaq brought her finger to her lips to motion for silence. She pointed over at Much who sat perched on a small hill preparing a fire. Djaq whispered softly, "Watch this." She pulled out the small glass disk from before and expertly angled it toward the fire pit. To Adelina and Much's surprise, a fire started. The two women quickly ducked behind the rock, chortling to themselves.

Robin glanced knowingly towards where they were hiding and stifled a laugh himself as Much exclaimed. "Ah!" He jumped back from the fire. "A sign!" A look of dejection crossed Much's face. "Which means I have to fast." Djaq handed Adelina a rabbit she had hunted and gestured towards Much. Grinning, Adelina threw the coney next to a startled Much. "But God wants me to eat." He said, looking up for the source of the meat. Djaq threw a second rabbit. "Quite a lot!"

"Djaq, Adelina." Robin shouted towards the rock. "Come and join us."

The two emerged, smiling, from their hiding place. "For good?" Djaq asked.

Eleanor briefly stopped what she was doing and tensed up at the thought of Djaq joining the gang. "Well, I was thinking just for dinner, but..." Robin continued jovially.

"And I was thinking for good!" Djaq said as she and Adelina made their way down the hill. "Perhaps I should have let your big friend here die, huh? Then there would have been a vacancy."

Will leaned forward and spoke tentatively, "It wouldn't be safe for you...to join us."

"For us or for him?" Robin asked.

Will shifted uncomfortably. "For _her_."

Robin smiled. "I guessed as much."

Adelina rolled her eyes. "It's about time you idjits figured it out. Are you men _blind_?"

Robin ignored Adelina's sarcasm and directed his attention to Djaq. "What's your name? Your _real _name?"

Djaq hesitated a moment. "Saffia, but I prefer you to call me Djaq."

"Djaq." Robin repeated. "Well, your expertise did help to save Little John's life for which we will be eternally indebted. Anyone have a problem with Djaq joining the gang?" Robin asked.

Will shook his head and Adelina laughed. "I'm not bein' funny," she began, "but I like her alot. No problems here."

Eleanor felt her skin go cold. It didn't feel right in her noble English-raised mind to have a Saracen in the camp, but she would not protest. As uncomfortable as she felt, she told herself that she had to trust in her husband's judgment-and she did. He would not allow danger of any sort into their lives. Therefore, this Saracen woman should be able to be trusted.

Robin smirked triumphantly and sat down. "Well, welcome to the gang."

Djaq shrugged and smiled weakly as Adelina genially patted her shoulder before assuming her position next to the groaning Allan. Lively conversation started among the members of the gang as they went about their business, which left Adelina alone with her outlaw. She did pity him, but she was not going to let an opportunity such as this pass by. He let out another pathetic grunt as she began patting his forehead with a cool, damp cloth.

His normally sharp, crystal blue eyes were clouded and delusional. Adelina sighed and whispered to him. "You know," She began sternly. "If you had just married me by now, we could have our own little tent in which I could take care of you out of sight and ridicule of the others." Adelina grabbed a small knife and cut away the ropes tying Allan to the tree. "But alas, you have not. Still, you are very lucky that I have fallen in love with you." She smiled as she once again cooled his forehead before sidling up close to him and placing a soft hand on his chest. Allan groaned again, but this time, it sounded like he was speaking to her-at least, that's what Adelina told herself. She chuckled as she closed her eyes, "I love you too, Allan A Dale."

Branwyn stumbled into her home in Locksley, still in shock from the revelation in the Abbey. Eleanor was married to Robin Hood? What did that mean for them? If there was ever any hope for getting Adelina and Eleanor out of the forest, it was gone now. One day, either Branwyn or Eleanor would be a widow at the hand of the other's husband. Branwyn could only hope it was not her husband whose life was cut short.

She sat in front of the fire, and out of nowhere servants came to tend her. "The Master's been looking for you all afternoon, my lady."

Branwyn looked up to the maid who was offering her a cup of water. "Has he?" She nodded. "Where is he now?"

As if he had been summoned by their conversation, Guy was suddenly in the doorway of the Manor. "Branwyn," he said, his voice full of relief. He walked over to where his wife was sitting, taking in her appearance. "You're hurt."

Branwyn suddenly felt the searing pain in her arm from the arrow wound she had sustained during her brief and rather humiliating tenure at the fair. "A scratch," she said with a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. "Nothing more."

"Let me look at it." He pulled off his gloves and pulled one of the benches from the table over to sit himself next to her. Turning to the maid who was hovering, watching them, he nodded towards the kitchen door. "Go fetch me some clean water and rags." He looked over the wound, touching it gently. "I'll also need a needle and thread." He looked up at Branwyn, who was staring almost vacantly into the fire. "Where did you go?"

"The Abbey," Branwyn said automatically. "I...didn't want to have to face you." Guy froze, the truth of her words hitting him. Branwyn looked down at him, sadness in her eyes, her embarrassment staining her cheeks. "Someone in the crowd shot me, and I just wanted..." she sighed. "Never mind, 'twas foolish anyway."

"Did you see who the man was who shot you?" Guy asked, taking the supplies he asked for from the maid, who had returned and was now staring at Branwyn's wound with wide eyes.

Branwyn shook her head, gesturing for the maid to leave. "Chaos seemed to break loose. I...I don't know. I had a lot on my mind other than the arrow."

Guy unlaced her sleeve from her shoulder and gingerly pulled it away, revealing the wound on her arm. Picking up one of the rags, he dipped it in the water and then proceeded to clean his wife's wound. "Like what?"

Branwyn hesitated, but relented. "I saw Eleanor today."

He looked up at her quickly, his face serious and simultaneously concerned. "Branwyn, any relations with outlaws are extremely dangerous."

"I know," Branwyn sighed. "It was an accident. She was in Kirklees and so was I. Still, it was nice to see her."

"How is she doing?" Guy asked the question casually, catching his wife off guard completely.

"She's doing well. She's married now. To _Robin Hood_," she added, sneering the name.

Guy took in the news with surprise, hoping there was some part of him that was subtle about his hatred of Hood. But he could see in Branwyn's face that she shared his feelings about the ex-noble turned outlaw. "You appear to share my disdain for Hood."

Branwyn sighed. "He is arrogant and is deserving of the hangman's noose. I fear for Eleanor-and for Adelina."

Guy considered her words for a moment. It was clear to him the importance of these women to his young wife. They had yet to commit any real crimes against Nottingham and the Sheriff. "It is good that you met Eleanor in the church." He said slowly. "The powers of arrest cannot extend into the holy place of God."

Branwyn looked at Guy, puzzled by his comment, but then the realization of what he said struck her. The church was a safe haven. Not even the sheriff could arrest Eleanor and Adelina if they were in a church. Branwyn smiled. "Yes, it is good, isn't it?" She looked Guy in the eyes, silently thanking him for his brilliance and compassion.

Guy searched his mind for words to speak, but was unable to develop any coherent sentences. He instead silently picked up the needle and thread and gingerly approached Branwyn's wound. He paused before proceeding. "I apologize for the pain that this will cause."

Branwyn let out a light chuckle despite herself. "I never thought Sir Guy of Gisborne would be handy with a needle and thread."

Gisborne allowed himself to crack a small smile. "I have had to mend many wounds in my time. However, it would be wise not to ask me for any assistance with your embroidery-or whatever it is the ladies do with thread." Branwyn met her husband's eyes and smiled. She had to admit that the thought of Guy with embroidery in his lap was an amusing image. Guy cleared his throat and broke the gaze between them. "Are you ready?"

Branwyn nodded lightly. "Yes, of course." Guy threaded the needle in and out of Branwyn's wound as gently as he could. Branwyn set her jaw like she had done so many times and fought back the tears that pricked her eyes. She found herself focusing on the feel of Guy's hand firmly but kindly gripping her arm as he stitched the gash. She was surprised by how gentle his large, battle-scarred hands were. She also found herself pondering the small life inside of her. She needed to tell Guy. She shook herself out of her thoughts as she felt Guy cut and tie the thread. "Thank you." She murmured quietly avoiding eye contact with him.

Guy dropped his hands from her arm and firmly placed them on his knees. "You're welcome." He responded just as quietly. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

Branwyn was struck by the sincerity in his question. She once again felt the irritating flush in her cheeks and hoped it wasn't noticeable in the firelight. "A-actually, my lord, there is something I have been meaning to speak to you about." Guy responded with silent raptured attention. Branwyn cleared her throat and mustered up the courage to speak her news. "I am with child." She finally blurted, eyes downcast.

Guy felt every muscle in his body involuntarily tense-whether out of excitement or fear, he could not say. He looked to his young wife and saw her downcast expression and watched as she wrung her hands in her lap. She was nervous and frightened. Guy remembered her words from earlier, _I didn't want to have to face you..._A surprising sick feeling crept up in his gut as he realized his young wife was unable to come to him for her needs. The sudden appearance of emotions caught Guy off guard. He considered the woman before him. She was beautiful, strong, and intelligent, and now she would bear his child. He still felt unsure of how he should react, but he could not deny the small bit of joy that sparked within him. Finally being able to form a cohesive sentence, Guy spoke. "This is pleasing news. Thank you, Branwyn."

Branwyn looked up into his face and smiled weakly. "I'm glad you are pleased, my lord." She was unsure as to the typical response to such news, but Branwyn was thankful for his words. It excited her more than she could say to bear Guy of Gisborne's child.

The moon shone high above Sherwood Forest, casting silver through the trees that lit the way as Eleanor made her midnight escape. She wasn't _exactly_ escaping, though she couldn't sleep and the tent she and Robin lived in together was beginning to feel more cramped by the minute. It was the middle of the night, but she was feeling a desperate need to talk to someone about her day. Her concerns-and there were many-gnawed at her memory and tormented her thoughts. Her worry for their eternal souls, caused by the Saracen's presence and her husband's sympathies for the Saracen plight, seemed to magnify all her other worries. Branwyn bearing the child that would be the firstborn of Eleanor's husband's enemy, the child that would be raised to hate and hunt any children Eleanor herself would one day have, kept her awake. It was her greatest and most sincere fear that Branwyn's child would be a son. For Branwyn herself was an oldest child, but she had no share in her father's inheritance other than the inheritance of his stony heart and determination to accomplish whatever was set before him. A Gisborne daughter would inherit her parent's concerning personality attributes, but none of the land or the power that Sir Guy possessed.

Eleanor wandered around the outskirts of the camp for a while, playing through different scenarios in her head, her hands fingering the rosary that had been among the few possessions she had brought with her into her new life as an outlaw. If it had been different circumstances, she would have gone to Branwyn to talk. Despite their differences, Branwyn always seemed to understand her and have sound advice to give her. But here they were, on opposite sides of a war they hadn't known was raging just a few months earlier. With Branwyn both part of the problem _and_ unavailable at the moment, it left Eleanor with Adelina.

Eleanor had never understood her redheaded friend. There was something about Adelina that had always been unsettled in the noble life. Eleanor had noticed traces of it in Branwyn as well, but Branwyn had learned to contain her concerns and unease and had found noble life a necessary evil to accomplish what she wanted. Adelina, meanwhile, had never been so happy as she was in the forest. Eleanor didn't understand how she so easily traded the luxuries of a life at home in a house, with servants and a proper bath and good, reliable food and water. Especially for the amenities found in the forest, which were few and far between as far as Eleanor was concerned. Eleanor had her doubts that Adelina would understand her concerns, but she knew that Adelina would at least _listen_, which was something.

She made her way into the main portion of the camp where the outlaws who weren't married spent their nights. She passed Much, curled up by the fire, and their new member, Djaq, as she slept propped up against a rock not far away from where Will Scarlet slept. Someone had thrown a fur over Djaq, which prompted even Eleanor to smile. Tiptoeing past John, Eleanor came to where Allan had been tied to a tree during his insanity earlier. Snuggled into Allan's side snoozed Adelina. Eleanor was thankful for the silvery glow of the moon that hid the blush on her cheek. She nudged Adelina with her foot, and laughed gently despite herself as the younger girl suddenly popped awake, fully alert and with a dagger drawn.

"Relax, Addie," Eleanor said, trying to stifle her laughter.

Adelina sat fully upright, resheathing the dagger and wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Ella," she asked groggily, "what are you doing?"

"I could ask you the same thing," Eleanor said in a firm but hushed whisper. She grabbed Adelina's upper arm and wrenched the girl up, tugging her along until they were outside of the main camp. "What was _that_?"

"What?" Adelina shook her head, a fog surrounding her thoughts as she tried to push through sleep. "Ella, it's the middle of the night. What was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

Eleanor tapped her foot, shaking her head and sticking her pointer finger condescendingly in Adelina's face. "Oh no. Before we talk about anything involving me, we're going to talk about that behaviour."

"What behaviour?!" Adelina was whining now, her voice thick with sleep. "Please, just let me go back to sleep, Ella. We can talk in the morning..."

Eleanor grabbed her friend's arm as Adelina began to wander off. "Adelina, you cannot go back and sleep next to Allan. It isn't proper-you aren't married."

There was a beat, and then Adelina turned slowly to face Eleanor, the silvery moonlight catching the sarcastically disbelieving look on her face. "You woke me up to tell me not to sleep next to Allan?"

"No," Eleanor said as though it were obvious. "But since you're awake-"

"Because you woke me up."

"-I thought we might discuss that display of inappropriate affection."

"Ella," Adelina said with an agitated sigh. "We were sleeping. He needs someone to watch over him, you of all people can't penalize me for that."

"Well, no," Eleanor admitted sourly. "But I would be willing to bet that this isn't the first time you have slept with him."

"Ella, please, we're going to get married eventually," Adelina said with a laugh. "I see no problem with it."

"The Church teaches-"

Adelina scoffed. "The Church teaches that God is all-knowing, so He knows what our relationship is. Thanks, Ella, but I really didn't need the midnight homily. Now, are you going to tell me the real reason why you woke me up, or can I go back to my life of sin and fall asleep next to the man of my dreams?"

Eleanor spent a moment flabbergasted, before finally relenting. "I saw Branwyn today."

"Yeah?" Adelina's interest was officially peaked. "How is the _pious_ lady doing?"

Eleanor smiled. "About as well as you'd expect. She sends her greetings."

"Of course she does!" Adelina said, a bit too loudly considering the hour of day. "It's only natural that she'd miss me. Things aren't the same, are they?"

"No, they aren't," Eleanor agreed, a hint of sadness staining her voice. "But, Branwyn did have some news."

"Sir Guy has decided to donate to the poor and cease all torture and other general acts of brutality?"

"Adelina, don't be cheeky." Eleanor scolded her friend, though she was grateful that the moonlight was casting shadows on her face so much that Adelina couldn't actually see the smirk she was desperately trying to control. "Branwyn's news is...not exactly about her husband."

Adelina raised an eyebrow. "Ella, I love you, and I love Branwyn, but I also love sleeping. So if you wouldn't mind leaving all of this mysterious coding behind, I'd appreciate a straight answer."

Eleanor sighed. "Branwyn is going to have a child. Gisborne's child."

Adelina let out a joyous laugh. "God, Eleanor, you deliver that news like it was a death warrant!" Adelina didn't know how true her words may be. "That's fantastic! Branwyn! Wynnie! Our Wyn! She's having a baby! Gosh...that's fantastic. Guy must be over the moon!"

Eleanor shook her head. "She hasn't told him yet," she said seriously.

Adelina's face fell, concern taking over. "Is she scared of him? Do we need to rescue her? I'm sure the gang would-"

"No, no, Addie, listen," Eleanor rested her hands on her friend's shoulders, giving her a little shake. "Branwyn is actually quite happy. She just isn't sure how to tell him."

Adelina scoffed. "You and Branwyn, with all of these problems. I'll never have that problem."

"No, I don't suppose you will," Eleanor deadpanned. "Adelina, we need to be extra careful now. A child in the Gisborne cradle could be incredibly dangerous for us."

"What?" Adelina said with a little laugh. "Come on, Eleanor, this is _Branwyn_ we're talking about. She talks a big game, but she honestly couldn't hurt a fly if she wanted to. You know that."

"You're right," Eleanor said, hoping she sounded convinced. "Thank you, Addie. You can go back to bed now."

Adelina pulled her friend into a hug, bidding her good night before stumbling off towards where Allan lay, still deep in a stuporous slumber. Eleanor watched her go, sighing as she stood by herself in the brisk night air, pulling her shawl around her and slowly beginning to trudge back towards the tent she and Robin shared. Pausing just outside the tent, she gazed up at the endless night sky, as though she would look into the actual face of God.

"I meant what I said about mercy," she said somberly. "We _all_ need it."

With a sigh, she made her way into the tent, slipping into her side of the makeshift bed and smiling lazily as her husband unconsciously wrapped his arms around her and she slipped into a restful, peaceful sleep.

26


End file.
